I dropped myself on the chair and continue to stare at the blank, expressionless paper sitting in front of me. I scanned the whole desk that was carpeted in drawings created by the students who had sat here previously.
I pulled at the sleeves of my light, cotton jacket as I noticed a piece of wood with led clinging onto it.
I lift up the pencil with my thumb and index finger, pivoting it and pointing the sharp end at the paper as if I was threatening it.
I begin to think, but not a single idea would puncture my brain. I moved my hand towards the upper-right corner of the page, my hand moving swiftly as I wrote my name.
I leaned back and slouched down slowly, my right hand fiddling with the pencil, whilst the left tapped my knee impatiently.
I let go of the pencil and watch as it spins steadily and cascades into the crease between the two tables.
Brushing myself off, I stand up and rub my hands together.
I could always devour this work later.