Jacked By Jill

“Everything I do feels empty. The world around me drowning out my thoughts. The sluggish pace at which evolution turns is the blink of an eye viewed from any perspective beside the experience. The true nature of reality is unknown, yet many waking hours are invested into the persistence of separating fact from fiction. Who’s really to say what the answers are, when those answers are merely a reflection of the questions asked. How does one seek that which is unknown by all? What is the target we are aiming at?”

As Jill finished reading the final paragraph of her high school thesis aloud, a silence lay over the room. This was no silence due to awestruck onlookers. It was more that of a disassociated audience. Half of the people in attendance were dull-witted maroons, unable to listen long enough to digest the levity of the concepts presented; meanwhile the other half were engaged in some form of personified glorification of the self, believing themselves to be the only individual in the crowd to know the answers of which the concepts were describing. None of which had the time to contemplate and discuss the posed concepts as the bell rang, signaling the end of one session and the beginning of the next. No time to break. “Move along class,” bellowed Mr. Fleming.

Jill moved slowly back to her desk as her peers scurried out of the room. She got to her seat and began packing her things. While looking into her backpack that was sitting on the floor a pair of feet appeared. She looked up to find Jack Holloway staring down at her desk of papers. “Any questions?” she asked politely with a smile.