The girl sits quietly, with her feet in full lotus. She is not in a corner or possessing heart-wrenching tear stains beneath her eyes. In full view of everyone, she sits simply (if not, flexibly), menially and imperceptibly quiet.

The classroom is not quiet. It is filled with the maddening and odd din of human tones, slanted by afternoon light. Staring at the mass of people, she experiences the strange sensation that occurs while watching a crowd and hearing the overlapping grinding of their voices but not seeing their lips move at all. Their thoughts seem to speak in their place. She wonders briefly if her thoughts are being broadcasted into the space of the room as well and if everyone hears it but, like all the other noises, is quick to be drowned out.

Around her, people scream and circle each other, like cumbersome planets. Then what of her? Is she the sun or is she the black matter-less-ness that everyone tries to look through? But this isn't a lamenting, this is simply fact stating. Here is this girl, sitting quietly in a room full of noisy children, her peers in the most simplistic way possible. Yet there is nothing wrong with this girl, she is simply sitting there with her mouth shut and her feet crossed over her thighs.

So she keeps herself company with her stillness and her silence when all of a sudden, here approaches a distorted black shadow, encroaching her space. It makes not a sound but all of a sudden the cacophony is amplified in her head and she is flummoxed by this curious reaction. Unable to suppress her curiosity, she turns to the caster of the shadow with nonchalance. He smiles awkwardly. This girl recognizes this smile because it is in no way quiet and has the ability to personify both lilting sopranos and tortured cats. She does not react in any particular manner.

The boy with his awkward smile and lanky form drops down beside her like a raindrop on a plastic sheet. She makes an effort to disguise the put off vibe she must be giving off. The din intensifies and perhaps it is only the clamor of her own thoughts. His hand is warm beside hers.

"So" And like any other conversation, he tries to start casually with a simple one word, two-letter beginning that is blatantly non-committal and she has to admit, this much she can appreciate. Her full lotus twitches slightly.

"Hello." She responds carefully and softly. It seems that he hasn't fully comprehended her words. He stops then and chews his lip and her mind is mildly blown by just how awkward this boy can be. The light twists the dust particles in the air like a parade that seem to move to the rhythm of the jarring voices in the room. She winces and he takes notice of this small action.

"It's noisy in here, isn't it?" He comments, again non-committal and this time is almost gets on her nerves. If you're so casual about speaking to me, she thinks, vexed, then why do you bother to talk to me at all? She keeps these rude little thoughts inside of her head because he does speak an inarguable truth. Even so, she shakes her head and raises her hand to ear.

"I said, isn't it noisy in here?" The irony of him repeating his words so loudly does not evade her and she makes a high pitched little snort of laughter that makes him almost taken aback. Showing no sign of sheepishness, she makes that same sound and looks to the floor, responding with a languid nod. The warmth of his hand creeps further on to hers.

"Well," He supplies to the silliest silence that settles between the two of them, despite all of the noise. The wavering of his voice subsides and in that moment, she decides between putting her hand on top of his and reaching out to manipulate the dust in her own little choreography. She chooses the latter. Light lingers around her hand as the most it can do is offset the particles' original tenor. He watches quietly, and shuffles around. It is understood that he is making himself comfortable beside her.

She decides to let him stay by her side, watching the dance of the dust particles, empty save for the imaginary jubilee it could possess, because there is nothing wrong with her but there is nothing wrong with awkward company either.

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HOLY SHIZ IT'S A PROSE PIECE. All sorts of amazing!