Tony Becker

It was the last hour of the school day, and Tony sat in silence at his desk, his cheek resting in the palm of his hand. His gaze was vacant, staring straight ahead without really seeing anything. Mrs. Soto's voice reached him muffled, like a constant background noise.

Creative Writing. What irony. He had enrolled believing it would help him polish his writing skills. But in the last few months, they had done nothing but write fiction. Nothing but fiction.

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

"Great..." he murmured to himself

He sighed and closed his eyes for a second How boring