A Quiet Morning in Class
The faint hum of chatter filled the classroom, a patchwork of whispered gossip and laughter echoing against the pale cream walls. the kind that always seemed to fill the space between the lessons.
Sunlight streamed in through the tall windows, painting golden streaks across the wooden desks. I sat by the window, my chin resting on my palm, staring outside. The trees swayed gently in the breeze, their emerald leaves whispering secrets to the wind. The rustling sound had a calming rhythm, almost lulling me into a daydream. It was peaceful. A moment of tranquility in the middle of the chaos that was junior college.
The world beyond the glass felt peaceful, serene—so different from the bustling classroom behind me. My classmates were absorbed in their conversations, their voices blending into an indistinct hum.
Then, abruptly, the room fell silent. The shift in energy was palpable, as if a silent cue had passed through the room. Everyone instinctively straightened in their seats, the low hum of conversation fading into complete stillness. The door creaked open, and the click of footsteps announced the arrival of our teacher.
Chairs scraped against the floor as everyone, myself included, rose to our feet.
"Good morning," we said in unison, our voices flat and mechanical, before sinking back into our seats.
The teacher was a man in his late thirties, wearing a plain, neutral-colored shirt paired with worn but neat jeans. His sandals suggested a man who prioritized comfort over style. He wears glasses, which frame his face and give him a studious look.., flipped open the attendance book. He called out our names, his voice steady, and marked our presence with a sharp flick of his pen.
After the last name, he closed the book with a decisive snap and looked up, his gaze sweeping the room.
"All right," he began, his voice carrying an unexpected weight. "Today, we're going to choose the student representative for this year. Is there anyone here who would like to volunteer?" The teacher's voice broke the quiet, the words lingering in the air like a heavy weight.
The words seemed to hang in the air, heavy and unwelcome. A tense silence settled over the class like a thick fog. A moment of pause. Silence. The words seemed to echo in the room, growing louder as the seconds ticked by. No one moved; no one spoke. Even the faintest sound—the rustle of papers, the creak of a chair—seemed out of place in that moment.
I glanced around at the faces of my classmates, unsurprised. All of them, looking at their desks, pretending to be lost in thought, avoiding eye contact. A few fidgeted nervously, others absentmindedly tapped their pens against their notebooks, as if the rhythm of their actions could drown out the weight of the teacher's request. Not a single hand rose.
Nobody wanted the position. Who would? It was a thankless job, a title with no reward—just another responsibility to be shouldered for the sake of appearances. To represent the class meant taking on more work, more hassle, with no promise of anything in return. Who would choose to take on that burden? Certainly not me.I couldn't blame them. In a way, it was only natural. People prioritize themselves—its how the world works. After all, we live in a free country, right?
The teacher's gaze swept across the room, scanning the sea of faces, and I could feel the tension build. A few uncomfortable seconds passed before the teacher sighed, his fingers drumming softly against desk.
"Very Well then," teacher said, "We'll decide by drawing lots." their tone almost casual, as if the fate of the class had already been decided long ago.
The class collectively exhaled, a mixture of relief and anticipation. Of course, it would come to this—just like last year. Fate would decide, sparing everyone the discomfort of volunteering. As the teacher began preparing slips of paper, the room grew restless once more. Quiet murmurs rippled through the rows, the tension dissipating into the ordinary buzz of the morning.
I leaned back in my chair, my gaze drifting again to the window. The trees outside continued their gentle dance, unaware of the trivial chaos within. I sighed, the corner of my lips twitching into a wry smile.
"Lottery, huh?" I muttered under my breath. "Let's see who gets the unlucky draw this time." A fair game, they said. But in truth, it was anything but. It was a game of chance, where only the unfortunate seemed to have the cards stacked against them.
And so, the moment of fate drew closer, the air tinged with equal parts dread and quiet amusement. In this classroom filled with laughter, whispers, and dreams, the weight of expectation pressed lightly upon us all.
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