The room is quiet, save for the rustling of paper as pages are turned.  A morbid story is the current 
center of attention, nine students and one teacher sitting around and on top of the large black table in the 
middle of the room reading silently.  The writing style is much like this one- folksy with many pauses and 
ands. One reader finishes and looks up suddenly.  A movement in the window has caught her eye.  
“It’s snowing!”  Everybody turns to look, some making comme3nts on the size of the flakes or the 
color of the sky or 
“Do you think they’ll close school?” and 
“I don’t like snow.”  Someone stands up and goes to look out the window.  Too many adjectives.  
Another finished reader turns around to watch as the world that is the parking lot turns a powdery white.  
The snow isn't very deep, but it is sticking to the ground and getting deeper by the second.  Looking at the 
black top, there seems to be one color; a pale bluish gray.  Upon closer observation however, the white and 
yellow paring lines can still be faintly seen, a grid of brighter white than the rest.  They watch the flakes fall 
for a while, then sit down again, still staring out the window.  A bell rings and people begin packing their 
books, preparing to go to their next class.  Some are talking in subdued voices, but no one is laughing as 
they at this time in the morning.  The story has put them in a depressed mood and they are still mulling it 
over as they file silently out the door. So slow, it goes in one ear and out the other.  Most of it is ignored, 
but the general message is understood.  A few are still reading, not yet finished with the story. A half-
finished mug of tea sits on the table, a wet lukewarm ring of liquid beside it where it sat earlier.
Someone has started a snowball fight, and a group of people have run outside to the front parking 
lot.  So many redundancies.  The packed snow flies in all directions and laughter shouts and squeals ring 
through the cold air.  The writing style and the knowledge that classes start in two minutes however eclipse 
thier excitement.  Of course, that happened already and is only written about now to keep to this slow 
sleepy present tense style of writing.  Then again, everything here has happened already if at all, so one 
must wonder: ‘What’s the point!??’