Upon arriving to school, I glanced at my phone. 9:38 AM. I had a few minutes before class commenced. I sauntered to the Memorial Union to pickup my books before class. English. The subject I dread the most. I have always struggled with writing: probably because as a child I was immersed in a household where Farsi and broken English were spoken. However, I have taken three lower division writing courses at Davis and have become more comfortable with writing. Browsing through the English section on the ground floor of the bookstore, I was unable to locate my books. I was unprepared—I could not recall which section I was in. I glanced at my phone again. 9:50AM. As I darted to UWP, my heart started to pound inside my chest cavity. Beads of sweat materialized on the palms of my hands. I have never had any apprehensions about a class before. Perhaps my nerves were on the fritz from the night before.
…
I walked to the bookstore to search for my books again. Upon investigation, and assistance from an employee, I found them. The line to the registers stretched past the notebooks and binders. As I waited, the girl behind me strummed her fingers along her purchases, reminding me of the translator in class, heavily tapping the keyboard as he typed. I had focused on his typing. This distracted me somewhat, but also calmed me. I had a long way to go before I reached the registers. I flipped open New Keywords. Evolution was the first word I saw.
…
I walked to the bookstore to search for my books again. Upon investigation, and assistance from an employee, I found them. The line to the registers stretched past the notebooks and binders. As I waited, the girl behind me strummed her fingers along her purchases, reminding me of the translator in class, heavily tapping the keyboard as he typed. I had focused on his typing. This distracted me somewhat, but also calmed me. I had a long way to go before I reached the registers. I flipped open New Keywords. Evolution was the first word I saw.
1 comment:
This narrative has verve and intrigue. I especially like the image of "beads of sweat materializ(ing)"—and the following suspense of what might have happened the night before. I also really like how you let the word 'evolution' sort of float as the title until the last sentence—at which point it suddenly fits into a crystal clear context.
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