a short, exasperated little thing slams her locker and scurries around the corner
practically slamming into a telephone pole of a guy.
he smiles, says her name, and asks if she was trying to run him over
and it takes her a few seconds for the wheels of her brain to slow down enough to respond;
an awkward laugh and an eye roll
and a sarcastic “yeah” that is shouted as he’s still walking the other direction.
the wheels start up again and her little legs move even faster to make up for lost time.