Classroom — 7x

The third chime rang.

“Good morning, Classroom 7X,” she whispered. classroom 7x

She picked up the chalk. Her hand moved on its own, writing an answer to a question no one had asked yet: We teach because we are afraid to learn. The third chime rang

Desk two. A boy. Same faceless head. He sat motionless, hands folded. The third chime rang. “Good morning

The door to Classroom 7X had no window. That was the first warning. The second was the smell: old paper, dry chalk, and something faintly sweet, like overripe fruit. The third was the timetable pinned to the corkboard, the ink so faded it looked like a ghost of a schedule.

A girl in the third row raised her slate. New words: Do you remember dying, teacher?