I quiver

by CharmMaster

Kind of a poem. From a student's POV.

I quiver

I quiver.

I quiver as I stroll down the slimy corridor.

Drip. Drip. Drip, goes the water splashing on the floor.

The smell of moss and used animal parts.

The feel of old, slippery stone.

Suddenly a creak and a voice.

"Come in!"

I sit down quickly.

And peer up at the hook-nosed teacher.