Pencils Scratch

Pencils scratch, the graphite coloring the paper.

Dragons, witches, initialed hearts take up the page.

She stops at the hearts. Smiles. Her heart flutters in a school-girl way, Happy? Calm? In love? Words don’t come close to how she feels.

The boy she loves, the one who sits two rows in front of her, sneaks glances at her through the corner of his eye. When the teacher leaves, everyone starts talking. They don’t hear it.

Instead, they make eye contact, and engage in a conversation- using a different language, the language of signs. 

They talk about how she got her hair cut, how he got new shoes, and how they feel about the assignment. 

Their teacher comes back, and silences the class. The girl smiles a bittersweet, heartbreaking smile.

 It’s always silent for her.

Author's Note

Something I wrote a while ago and not too sure about, please correct me well!