When my CW class met my Psych class.

A writing exercise I did for my creative writing class (fiction).
These two paragraphs were inspired by this photo I took last Thursday.

It happened every Thursday, from one  until four in the afternoon, on the second floor of a quasi-abandoned college building. This was one semester ago, but the heat of that October sun has not yet died, not even today. Inside our classroom, I wore a cardigan, while others wore hoodies or sweaters. We all froze as we listened to lifeless lectures. The artificial coldness inside our classroom was in contrast to the scorching October air beyond our classroom’s only connection to reality – a big green-framed window.  I often sat next to this window because it gave me a perfect view.

They were always near each other, but not too near. Just near enough to smell each other’s scent and feel each other’s breath. They have mastered the art of eye aversion; their eyes never met although each pair was always locked on each other’s faces. Their eyes were moving nervously, shifting from shoulder to cheek, nose to fingers, lips to curls. They took turns in glancing at each other; both pretending to be looking at something else when in fact, they are looking at each other. Her fingers caressed the edge of her seat as her feet traced the broken lines on the floor. She cannot keep it all to herself forever; her flesh won’t be scratching wood and tiles forever. She finally took her chance, acting brave and dull at the same time, she pushed her hand against her seatmate’s lap. At this point, both girls smiled, while I blushed from one seat behind.