"you may start"
click. click. click.
frantic page turning. pens click. muffled noises of biro hitting paper, lead scratching on paper. someone’s chair scrapes. someone’s desk rocks.
tick. tick. tick.
you left your phone in your bag, right? the person next to you asks for some paper to shove under their uneven desk. the lead in someone’s pencil snaps. someone sighs heavily.
click. click. click.
papers are shuffled. books are dropped. a own hits the floor. an invigilator picks it up.
tick. tick. tick.
anxiety as the invigilator looks at you. are you cheating? you don’t think so. wait! did you leave your phone in your bag? you think so. you can’t feel it in your pockets.
click. click. click.
you have five minutes left. the page turning, the scribbling, the scratching is more frantic. you have five minutes left.
tick. tick. tick.
you make sure to scribble extra frantically, so the person next to you knows you’re on top of things. they sigh heavily. so do you - you want them to think you’re in it together. it’s bloody hot, isn’t it? is your phone in your bag?
click. click. click.
put your pens down. you finish your sentence. and the one after it. pens down. the invigilator is approximately five metres away - should take them approximately thirty seconds to reach you. that’s thirty words! you write a new paragraph, and hand your paper to the invigilator to let them know you’re grateful for their loud pacing and that you’re on top of things.
how’d you find it? oh, fine. how did you find that? terrible. absolutely terrible. what the bloody hell was question seven? kissing a sweet goodbye to my future.
your phone is in the front pocket of your rucksack, turned off.
