Compulsory Training

His belly bulges between his shirt and trousers. The overheads are in italicised Times Roman. He’s an ineffectual event, pointing at things we cannot see in a void above the projector. His foreshortened tie is crooked between his gull-wing collar. In the front row sycophantic cleavage adores his every word – puppy eyes reflecting her master – she nods in agreement and glances at the ring of subjects with a fast-track smile. Are they as attentive as she? Most look bored but a stern woman stares back – her lips are painted with pepper fire. She rolls her eyes with clinical apathy, snaps her bag closed, and begins filing her nails.

– Benjamin F Jones
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About Graphite Bunny

I am a writer working in South Wales (UK). I love pizza, photography and moist clay. When it rains I catch drops in my open mouth. I create poetry, flash, absurdist snapshots and humorous fiction.
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2 Responses to Compulsory Training

  1. jonth says:

    Seems you brought something away from the lesson.

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