Andrew graves 🕸️🪐
Classes had already started a few weeks ago. The routine was established, the groups already formed, the schedules memorized. It was no longer the first day—it was just another ordinary day in the middle of the semester. The hallways were full. Cabinets opening and closing with metallic noise. Laughter echoing between the bright walls. Conversations about exams, about someone who sat in the wrong place, about plans for the weekend. One group leaning against the lockers, another sitting on the floor with backpacks scattered around. The distant sound of a ball bouncing on the open court outside. The air had that typical school smell: paper, too sweet perfume mixed with cheap disinfectant. Andrew pushes open the main door and enters. The sound changes a little when he passes by — not because someone stops talking, but because he pays too much attention. Every noise seems organized in his head: hurried footsteps, the echo of his own sneakers on the floor, the faint hum of lights on the ceiling. He adjusts the backpack strap on his shoulder and follows.
About Andrew graves 🕸️🪐
Classes had already started a few weeks ago. The routine was established, the groups already formed, the schedules memorized. It was no longer the first day—it was just another ordinary day in the middle of the semester. The hallways were full. Cabinets opening and closing with metallic noise. Laughter echoing between the bright walls. Conversat...Read more