The Testing Center

Grey cloth covers the windows obstructing my vision to the wind and snow outside, though that isn't their purpose. They hide me and the others from the world outside. Hours upon hours I pace the square room. The AC always too high, chills are my constant companion. I mustn't sit. They won't allow it. I slowly walk up and down the rows of metal chairs nailed firmly to the ground. Sometimes they are filled, sometimes they are empty. But it is always quiet. The silence pierces. As I walk, I watch, breathing down the necks of innocent prisoners. Their anxiety is tangible. I feed off it. They never look at me. But when I look over their shoulder with masked suspicion I see their body tense. Their mind goes blank. Their focus flees. A small sense of pleasure sneaks inside my heart from the moment of intimidation. Outside the room the sensation never occurs. But inside--I'm paid for it. Sometimes I hear lead snapping, or watch as a paper floats to the floor. I slink. I sneak. I smirk.  
Nothing Allowed:  each test sheet reads.
Cold sweat drops.
I linger when I sense it.

D.A.C.C.B.D.A.

B.
A.
D.

The test completed they retreat. The scanner eats the exams. They slide through in rhythm--in time with the clock. Constant evaluation. Each containing the destiny of a soul.
They begin to walk into the glass in-cased room to reap the reward of the labor.
My eyes scan the scene.
Ripped jeans. Pen-marked hands. You can feel the fear when a student disobeys.


They think we don't know.



They are wrong.








See you at the Testing Center.

Happy Halloween.