naya
Drip, drip, drip.
Steadily, the icicle melted. I watched with an impassive expression, saw the thing glimmer as it caught the light. It'd melt before tomorrow. I may as well take in the relatively lovely sight while it lasted. Fleeting. But pretty.
Drip, drip, drip.
The chalkboard is clean as ever. Green, smooth, not a single mark on its surface. Just once, I'd want to see the nice, white lines covering its surface. Math, a teacher's name, anything. Just to break up the monotony. But there's nothing.
Just green.
Blank.
All day.
All day.