The Glory Days

Re-post from my old blog. Slightly edited because writers are fussy. It’ll never be perfect in the sense that there will never come a time that I will read a draft of something I wrote and not edit it.

It’s a cold, dry, grey morning like this that reminds me of the glory days. Recess could be contained in an alcove, in the grade 8 section at Franklin. Weighty books in hand, my partner in crime and I did nothing but enjoy each other’s silent company. The fallen leaves rustling in little tornadoes around us became howling winds as our heroes from another world trekked through peril. The soft roar in the back of our minds wasn’t the distant shout of victory on the soccer field, but a battle cry for honour; the last stand after a long war.
In our alcove, we “held infinity in the palm of our hand, and eternity in an hour.” After days in a world of adventure, the prison bell would wake us too soon from freedom, and we’d return to our seats, sullen, and our hands cold as death. We brushed past classmates on the way in as they caught their breath. Their cheeks were rosy from the autumn breeze and warm from the game.
As feeling returned in our members, Mme started teaching — but we were still in that other place. We eyed each other and smiled, counting the seconds til our next adventure…
#bffs #memorylane #glorydays #bookworm
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