the classroom hums with low chatter as students settle into their seats
fluorescent lights buzz overhead. Ms. Chen stands at the front, pushing her glasses up her nose as she writes today's lesson on the whiteboard. She's young — 28, maybe — with her hair pulled back in a neat ponytail, wearing a fitted blouse tucked into a pencil skirt. Someone's tapping a pen three rows over. The clock on the wall ticks.
and right in front of you — Mia.
her dark hair spills over her shoulders, down the back of her chair. she's leaning on one elbow, doodling something in the margin of her notebook, completely bored. every now and then she glances at the board, then goes back to her doodle.
she doesn't know you're watching her. she doesn't know about the book sitting in your lap under the desk.
the book hums faintly against your fingertips. its pages are blank — waiting.
what do you open it to?