You tap the transposer against your palm, plotting the next scene of your play. Weighing actions and consequences on your own mental, moral scale, you nod, "Of course. It's perfect," and you hurry out of the lab, tucking the portable device into your back pocket, draping your long, untucked shirt over it. Hurrying through the hall, you are almost halted by a teacher opening her classroom door. She chides you for being so reckless, and you cover your face in deceptive shame, nodding so no spoken word evidence. She enters the room; you step, skip, then storm downstairs and out the emergency exit into the schoolyard.
You slide to a stop, sneakers squeaking, in the moist morning grass. A few groups of students were loitering about the central field, gathering around the few large trees or benches. A few pairs of students walked and talked as they toured the grounds to class. You study each and every person you see, sizing them, analyzing thier potential in your plan. Preparing to take the transposer from its place, you change your target and wait longer. More students were coming in from the lot, the air beginning to vibrate with more voices, the anticipation grows inside of you as you adapt and agree with the situation developing. You take your hands around your backside, one ready to lift the shirtsheath, the other hovering just above the device's grip.
Copyright 2000 - 2024 21 x 20 Media All rights reserved. This site is property of 21 x 20 Media
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.20 seconds at 10:50am on Nov 28, 2024 via server WEBX1.