I sat in class staring blankly at the wall. A movie flickered to life, but it made little difference to me. As pictures danced across the wall a dry commentary started up – it hung heavily on my ears with no real meaning. The picture faltered and died, casting the room in darkness until the teacher smacked the brick with a couple pronounced strikes. The creases in the brick smoothed out and the images lit up the room again. The wall illuminated the sunken faces of the students, none of which were stirring. Noting the indifference of her students, the teacher opened up the vents, releasing the familiar warm air. It wafted over the class, the sweetness falling on my tongue and playing in my lungs. As I enjoyed the subtle tingling in my finger tips I watched as the class rose from their vacant slumbers. However, their new caffeine-buzz only brought their attentions further from the film, as it always did.
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