Here is another piece by Victoria Featherston.  We hope you like it!

Oh no, It’s 1:00 on Tuesday

Victoria Featherston

“… the puffed up ego…” the man said.

Something to do with bread. How it’s related to bread, I couldn’t tell you. His words – carefully chosen and slow – evaporated like mist upon reaching my ears. Maybe it’s this room that suffocates my attention span. This room has a reputation – an awfully negative one – as it has held multiple sessions of painfully monotonous speakers. Hours of obscure topics and constant rambling cause my muscles to ache with impatience. White suit. Blue tie. He looks ninety years old.

Four stage lights illuminated his wrinkled, trembling body. Twelve vents lined the long stretch of the left wall. Twelve on the right. My knee drummed, nodded, bounced rhythmically.

 
“Who is rich? He who is content with his lot.” He sounds like a fortune cookie. He’s trying to sound wise, and maybe he does – to some. Of course he should be wise, he’s ancient!

 
I shifted in my chair, tuning him out once more. The dim lights grew dimmer as my mind hazed over. The darkness weighed down on my eyelids. The haze in my brain thickened, it became almost solid – tangible, even. The haze relaxed my muscles, muted my senses. The room rocked back and forth, and then turned upside down. I struggled to see clearly – I couldn’t focus! So I gently closed my eyes, softly, subtly, an unnoticeable gesture that felt so good.

 
Eyes. I felt eyes as pressure on my skin. I squeezed my eyelids together and shook the haze away. Upon opening them, an RA glared at me. I gulped. She glared as if it were my fault I was bored, and tired! They know we’ve all been in this situation several times! We don’t try to fall asleep – it just happens to a bunch of sleep deprived teenagers when you bore them to death.

 
Fear seeped into my skin with her pointed glare. Cafeteria duty cafeteria duty cafeteria duty cafeteria duty was the only thing on my mind.