Cody the Breault.

My computer hums a deep melody of power, the only thing being heard is that and the librarian making her rounds through the rows of computers hypocritically yelling at students to be quiet. A friend walks by, I grin and go about my business. She smiles, and walks past going about her business. The typing and clicking heard faintly through the grand library reminds me of an orchestra practicing for a big night. Two people whisper to each other, probably about Chemistry. They’re brains are working and thinking, expanding and growing. A kid sits at a computer and play’s pool, trying to pass the time. I wonder if he has any school work and is procrastinating. The chair I sit in is a stereotypical school chair, hard and requires great posture. Artwork lines the walls, people’s creativity posted for the whole school to see. The sun shines in through a back window onto my neck, warming and waking my skin. Outside in the hallway people rush back and forth, like little bee’s on a mission to somewhere far more important. In here, people work with great precision and a certain delicate way of doing things. The printer hums and makes some noise as it prints a boy’s creative thoughts onto a piece of paper. The boy picks it up and makes a noise, the paper is hot. Sitting back down he reads over it and gives it an approval. He gives his computer a break and shut’s it down. Walking out the door he begins his journey to someplace else, somewhere else, a more important place to go. I sit here and think of all the lives intertwined in this one room, how one person can affect another which then inturns affects another. Like a long, crawling spider-web weaving throughout the school. The bell rings and like clockwork everyone rushes off to someplace more important.