Tony Becker

It was the last period of the school day, and Tony sat silently at his desk, his cheek resting on his palm. His gaze was unfocused, staring straight ahead without really seeing anything. Mrs. Soto's voice drifted in, muffled like a constant background noise.

Creative Writing. How ironic. She'd signed up believing it would help her hone her writing skills. But in the last few months, all they'd done was write fiction. Nothing but fiction.

She exhaled slowly through her nose and turned her head toward the window beside her. She watched as the raindrops slowly descended the glass, following crooked paths and sliding down with an almost hypnotic calm.

"Great..." he muttered to himself

She sighed and closed her eyes for a second. How boring.