The bell rings, sun stretching high above the playground; the kids aren’t just excited, they’re ecstatic. The end of the school year – eight weeks of holidays to Majorca and sand-buckets and vanilla ice-cream stained mouths. Eight weeks of no school.
Their excitement is contagious, I must admit. But then it hits me again, what happened last year, who, exactly I had replaced. The kids love me, I assure myself, they wouldn’t-
But they do. They leave. Chairs get tucked in, lights turn off, and, like last year, the teacher, too, forgets. I watch from inside my tank, and wait for death.
#FLASHFICTION101 July 2021 SHORTLISTED ENTRY
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