Saturday Morning (Special Edition)

The half lit hallways of Cypress Bay are like the lights of dying fireflies. The rooms are dark and there is no echo of children. I am alone. It is not the loneliness that resides always in the figurative solitude I have encapsulated in the hard amber of my hearts blood, but true solitude. I am like a polar bear adrift on an ice floe far from land. I am like the last condor in the Andes. Alone at my desk waiting. Waiting for just one student to come to the EOC review. I have laid myself bare upon this rock so that others may feast on the knowledge I have made my flesh and fiber. No one. There is no one. My sacrifice is a burnt offering to a god that died when men stopped believing. Now godless prophets listen in the expanse of the desert and only hear the echoes of words cried to no one. It is the echo of the void. The EOC review has claimed another victim. Is it me or is it the U.S. History student sleeping in on Saturday? We will find out on test day.