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When ever I feel like to cry, I turn to the west and gaze to the east. You are there...
That stupid social test
All around me are the muffled voices of pens scratching paper, pens that are almost too eager to race to the end.
I hear the teacher’s steps approaching. Loud bangs that think themselves quiet.
I can almost tell that the rain outside the window fastened its pace, and is hitting the glass in a random yet orderly sort of way.
I wonder if I stand out there, will I be able to escape the rain.

My black and white paper is too vivid, heaving under my wrists.
Every one of those symbols meant something, and I know them, but I can’t put them into words.
A strand of hair stood on top of the teacher’s oversized forehead, I’m not sure if that’s a sign of knowledge or age. Or it could be both. It’s mocking me.
I can imagine the flat brows and relaxed back of the person behind me. He’s so practiced, even in extreme situations.

The room smells salty in a mysterious way, almost like someone hung tiny salt droplets in the air when I wasn’t looking.
My pencil gives me a comforting scent. Like when I’m at home, nibbling the top while trying to figure out a difficult question.
My hand reminds me of hair gel and sanitizer. They are both pretty pleasant, yet they are both boring and strong.
I wonder how much money guys spend on clones each month. Maybe it’s some kind of imaginary number.
My answers smell awkward and wrong as I try to guess. 50 percent chance, I say to myself.

P.S. I almost failed on that test XD