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His Monday Classes

Eyes heavy with arms hefty he drags his body from dorm to class to class to class. This is Monday.

He has not recovered from his weekend bash, the fiesta he had, and so he still wants to sleep and play, just simply laze around, anything but go to his Monday classes.

He especially dreads his 9 o’clock class. That 9 o’clock class occupied with beings, half-awake, some not even trying to stay up. The atmosphere is weighty and grey but somehow mellow.

It does not help that the room is warm because everyone else is already gone, drifted away above

the clouds and beyond space, beyond the galaxy and past infinity and into Ereineudaimopolis,

the land of peace the land of freedom.

Present and yet away, far far away in that peaceful place where 9 o’clock classes do not exist.

Tick tock the clock is moving and yet time is still. A lecture with eternal life, the lecturer filled

with subtle joy unlike the

rest of us. Yes, this is definitely Monday. Oh how we dread our Monday classes.

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