Good morning all. I hope you are having a great morning. I feel well rested and ready to tackle the day. I also feel surprisingly wake this morning. Which is rare this time of year when I get up in the dark. So I am still wishing for daylight savings, but feeling good about being firmly in the awake category. So I am going to take advantage of it. Let’s jump right in to the morning prompt. Let those timer’s fly…
Okay this may be a favorite for the week. I don’t know who this student is, but I really like this scene. i may have to spend some time today thinking of a story to fit this scene actually.
Thursday, October 27th: The pen is out of ink.
‘The pen is out of ink.’ I stared at the pen. I looked down at the page. My last three words were more than half ghosts. I looked up. I knew if I rustled around in my bag there would be accusations of cheating. I hadn’t brought out a second pen. Professor Acworth caught me looking. He lifted an eyebrow at what was probably a panicked expression on my face.
He stood up and ponderously walked towards me, each step like the click of a metronome, measured, even. Others glanced up and then looked back at their tests as he passed. He reached me looked down at the page and saw my difficulties immediately. He slipped a pen out of his coat pocket and held it out to me. I took it and he turned and walked back to his desk.
The pen was oddly warm from his body and it made me feel strange to touch something warmed by him. I couldn’t remember ever receiving something warm from someone else’s body before. I was sure I had at one point but I couldn’t remember it. The most contact I remembered was praise from my father. It involved a hand lightly placed on my shoulder. I could feel the pressure of his slight squeeze through my jacket. But no warmth.
I would never have expected warmth to come from him in any form. He was not that sort of man. The display of pride demonstrated by the light shoulder squeeze when I received my commendation was as publicly displayed as his praise or affections had ever been. Even that had been done after we left the ceremony and returned home.
I shook the thoughts off and returned to my exam. To my surprise the ink in the professor’s pen was purple. It looked strange taking off where my black ink tapered off, but I ignored it and tried to make up time. I studied hard for this exam and a lot was riding on it. I couldn’t’ afford to fail. I couldn’t even afford to get only a passing grade. I had to exceed or all was lost.
These thoughts too I pushed to the side as I concentrated on using the professor’s purple ink to complete the exam. Page after page was filled with my writing until finally I inked the last sentence. As if waiting for my final sentence to receive it’s punctuation I added my last period as time was called. Thee was a sigh of relief and clicking as pens were set down. Exam books rustled closed.
One by one we were called to approach the desk and turn in out exam pages before leaving the room. Earlier in the year there had been those who tried substituting other’s answers for their own. Then we had come up as one class, jostling to place out tests on the desk. Now we each went singly and the name with the person turning in the exam was checked. The exam matched the person or it wasn’t accepted.
Sitting in the middle of the room, half of the students were gone when it came my turn to rise. I slung my bag over my shoulder picked up my exam, and both pens before I walked forward. I handed the pen and my exam to the professor. The pen went into his pocket and the name on the exam was checked. I received my nod and I was allowed to leave. I walked into the hall. The classrooms were mostly empty. Not all had exams today and when class was over the students were allowed to depart as they wanted. Few stuck around this building when it wasn’t necessary. Those before me were gone and those behind had yet to emerge. My steps echoed hollowly as I headed for the stairwell.
Ten til Midnight 