Consider Yourself Warned

Sitting. Crunched in a backward "n" shape--if you are looking from a side view, anyway. I'm just outside the spotlights that shine harshly down, where the shadow is the darkest. But I guess this is my place. All I can see is the mocking lights, the mocking walls, rows and rows of mocking heads turned away from me. Voices--conversations sneak in and out of my ears quietly, like sneaking spiders over your bed at night. One voice louder than the rest echoes off those mocking walls and probably through all of those mocking heads turned away from me. My back--and backside, if I'm being honest--aches from the cold harshness of the deceptive wall and mush-pattern-carpeted-floors. A face, one face (attached to a body, of course, I'm not seeing floating heads or something, thank you) comes into view, turns in my direction and takes its place nearby. Your back--and your backside, if I'm being honest--is going to ache soon, too. But I warned you. Didn't you see the clear look of warning I gave you when you looked briefly my way? Don't say I didn't warn you. I guess this is your place, just like it is mine, this is the punishment--or not, depending how you look at it--for coming into class late. Oh, who am I kidding. It was worth this story.