Rage
It was Monday. I sat glaring at him from across the room and I wasn't even sure why I was doing it. I could feel something about to happen. The tension was so thick you could've cut it with a knife and serve it to people. Tension cake. Ha.
Static was filling the air and if I wanted to, I could've made time stop. I was still glaring at him, my hands fidgeting with the pen. Click. Clack. Click. Clack... He turned around and gave me a brilliant smile and all I could think of was stabbing him with the BIC pen. Tumultuous rage stirring from wherever rage came from. The red clock on the wall kept going, I saw it just at the corner of my eye. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. I saw red. Brilliant hues of red, a mash up morbidity spilling from the depths of my cognitive function.
You know that thing that happens where the person you're staring at gets pulled into focus really quick? Like you dragged them with a pulley stuck to a chair with wheels? Something like that. He was my focus. I was burning, screaming inside and I still don't remember why.
Static was filling the air and if I wanted to, I could've made time stop. I was still glaring at him, my hands fidgeting with the pen. Click. Clack. Click. Clack... He turned around and gave me a brilliant smile and all I could think of was stabbing him with the BIC pen. Tumultuous rage stirring from wherever rage came from. The red clock on the wall kept going, I saw it just at the corner of my eye. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. I saw red. Brilliant hues of red, a mash up morbidity spilling from the depths of my cognitive function.
You know that thing that happens where the person you're staring at gets pulled into focus really quick? Like you dragged them with a pulley stuck to a chair with wheels? Something like that. He was my focus. I was burning, screaming inside and I still don't remember why.
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