Moving On

The cafeteria was alive with the vibrant hues of midday, the beams of sunlight creating a shimmering effect over specs of dust.

Alive with the chatter of students, it almost felt like I’d stepped into a whole other universe. Nothing about this room screamed the certain sense of sadness I felt.

Mostly, I felt frustrated over the fact knowing Elijah was being treated like some kind of criminal.

It had been two days since we were alone, and at the rate things were going, I wouldn’t get to spend time with him anytime soon, either.

There was always a guard trekking after him, scrutinizing his every movement and intervening each time he tried to communicate with anyone.

Though they allowed me to talk to him in passing, exchange a few words here and there, but of course, everything we said was observed by a guard.

And believe it or not, the guard would take notes of the conversation transpiring before him, recording every word spoken in his presence.