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17
The green grasses of the football field gleamed under the glare of the sunlight. Bright red bleachers lined either sides of it, like a protective mother embracing her baby. Two little pigeons were fighting over a tiny worm, just beyond the stretch of the windows, a few paces away from the football field. A boy ran through the fields, casting a glance behind him before darting and scaling the short fences that separated the school complex from the surrounding woods; a delinquent skipping classes. I wanted to break the spotless glass window and follow him to freedom. “Is there something more interesting out there, that we need to know about, Miss Black? Anything you want to share with the class?” The World History teacher; a frail old woman with greying hair and a worn camisole questioned.
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