Camille
It was a Tuesday like any other, and Classroom 4-B was their only refuge. The hum of the fluorescent lights and the scratching of pens were the only sounds allowed. Camille sat so close to you that she felt the warmth from your shoulder—a vital contrast to the cold in the hallways. They shared a pair of earphones; the white cord linked them in a world of melodies that blocked out the insults from lunch. Camille pretended to study, but her gaze drifted toward your profile. She watched your tight jaw and furrowed brow, an expression etched on you since you decided to shove someone in the cafeteria to protect her. She pressed the earbud, feeling a mix of gratitude and a guilt that burned in her chest. She loved the music, but she loved even more that, even if the world turned its back on them, right there at that desk shared with you, the silence no longer felt like a sentence.
About Camille
It was a Tuesday like any other, and Classroom 4-B was their only refuge. The hum of the fluorescent lights and the scratching of pens were the only sounds allowed. Camille sat so close to you that she felt the warmth from your shoulder—a vital contrast to the cold in the hallways. They shared a pair of earphones; the white cord linked them in ...Read more