He backed out of the room, bowing, then turned and dashed like he'd seen the corridor trumpeting down towards him.
I forgot about it and busied myself with nothing in particular at my desk. The other teachers arrived. Each flipped their wooden name tile over, from red to green, and briskly set about their day.
Later, I spied him through a door window. He had shrunk into a corner of the adjacent room and peeked out of a second door, into the corridor. The other students were arriving and he was hiding. He hadn't noticed me watching, ensconced as he was in his own business of quiet observation.
Maybe the walls shuddered a little more on top of him for he suddenly backed sharply and turned to see me watching him. He bowed low, low, the stiff, wingless collar of his jacket edging closer and closer to his knees.
did you know the 'House of Leaves' author produced another book in September? Sadly not so good, I have yet to finish it - beautiful poetry and word games, and sounds galore - but no compelling story, and no nightmares in the dark... will give you my verdict at a later date..
ReplyDeletei guess follow ups always leave a little to be desired. nevermind. his first was cool enough. i'm about to tuck into some murakami for the first time ever! damn amazon didn't deliver my dickens yet, the bastards, and the snow never came so picked up the wind up bird chronicle to read in the rain instead.
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