It is the end of all things that stood. It is the beginning of all things that live. A forest stretches and we hear the rustling of leaves on branches and we hear squirrels rushing from the ground.
A young man delivers his paper to the teacher: “Here. I finished early.” His look is one of general disinterest.
“My fellow classmates, what is the meaning of life? Does it matter? Why must…” the teacher began reading. The teacher began shaking her head.
An unsheathed fountain pen fell to the ground and our brave writer didn’t even get out of his chair to pick it up. Instead, he contorted himself, bending over his legs, trying to reach the pen, but there was no going further. Our hero couldn’t reach. Suddenly he saw a strong, well-formed arm come into view, as his classmate picked the pen up for him and put it on his desk. When our hero looked up and to his right, he saw directly into the brown eyes of another boy he’d never noticed before. “Oh,” he began, and then froze.