Light filters through the window, casting a pattern of sun and shadow across her back. Usually, hair sways like sea weed. Today, she’s tamed the strands with hairpins tucked over each ear. I can smell perfume on the hollow of her neck. There goes another lecture.

Only handouts mark my existence.

As she turns to give me some papers, they drop.

Our eyes meet beneath the desks. She smiles and whispers, “Were you ever planning on speaking to me?”  

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Jerry Stamatelos is a teacher, writer and translator living in Montreal, Canada. He's currently working on his PhD thesis on Joseph Conrad. The flash fiction sub-genre is of particular interest to him.
E-mail: j_stamatelos at yahoo dot ca  

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