you told us to write about waking up breathless in a room that wasn't our own but the crowded lunchroom was overwhelming i apologize please forgive me

It would take a year to count the dots on a classroom ceiling. Blink blink blink cheap florescent lighting flicks away so dimly that you aren't entirely convinced it's not a trick of the eyes. There's no doubt that the stale scent of cigarettes and various cultural body odor makes the halls uncomfortable, but you're stuck here with the oddest arrangement of people you'd rather never see again. Funny story. A boy accused of rape last year was reading the paper in my favorite coffee shop with a brunette who had evidently bought both his lines and their drinks. You wonder who you're really sitting next to, glance over your shoulder before yet another joke pops in to your head. Did a math project with a chubby sophomore who had a child, she called her most recent lover by another guy's name. You wonder who you're really sitting next to. Everyone has a funny sort of story that would sound more plausible in day-time soap operas, and everyone else is interested in each unsavory detail and giving their misguided opinions on such. You wonder what they know of you, you wonder what they think.

The ceiling block closest to your door has 385 dots.