A sample of every clique
scattered throughout the room.
High ceilings accompanied by
windows on surrounding doors
letting in the cascading sunlight.
Clean checkered floors
lay in a pentagon shape.
The colossal staircase is
the focal point of the room,
where the girl gets studied
up and down,
up and down.
Five little grey boxes with
illuminated red letters
E
X
I
T
Square light fixtures
in pairs and in
pairs of pairs.
One is burnt out to grey.
Cylindrical teal poles pose.
One has a heavy load,
it has a t.v attached.
A man in a brown shirt walks by,
about forty years in age,
he does not go here.
Atriumians wonder why he’s walking
through this teenage wasteland.
A hamburger bun clings to the ceiling.
What makes it stick?
A Frisbee is jammed beside a window.
How did it get there?
The mysterious of the atrium are only
discoverable if present.
The usual chaos of this room
is on pause,
the only noise at this time is
the interruption of the Lakers
and the various voices scattered.
The sound of the bell-
such a small noise with
such a large affect.
The room is suddenly
overpowered with clamor.
People are late for class.
No it is not a hotel room.
Not it is not a jungle.
It is the centre of social groups.
(Minus the man in the brown shirt
who just rounded the corner
and invaded the area once again)
This has so much power to it even though you stick to strict facts. I feel that there are so many gaps to fill as I read, and that's what makes it personal. The invasion of the man in the brown shirt feels disturbingly personal and makes me feel involved in the scene. Excellent work!
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