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Description
The woman took out a pencil. She rolled it back and forth in her hands, feeling the texture behind her fingers. Valleys and mountains shaped by teeth, an eraser that was covered in a sheet of graphite, a tip that was uneven and paint-covered. It was an inadequate tool, but it must do.

She got out a sheet of paper, tapped at her teeth, then began to write down the instructions as fast as she could. The words lost meaning after a while, simply becoming iterations of lines, but still she recorded every single idea that came out of the instructor's mouth.

... And talk to person at end of line. An imaginary salute later, she was tearing the halls apart as she ran, searching madly for anything that might help her on her quest.

"Woman! Hey!" someone called out. "Hey, stop! Where are you going?" she waved back to him, then continued on her way.

As she exited the building, a few blackbirds cawed madly and scattered. The day was bright and blue, every colour saturated after last night's rain, puddles dotting the streets. She re-adjusted her glasses, then dashed down the sidewalk to her first destination.

It was nearly night-time, and a tired woman walked towards her final job. The puddles had disappeared after a day of evaporation. Cigarettes and light poles worked together to light the almost-sleeping town, and car lights followed each other down the curved streets. Everyone was going home and leaving the work district, except for one zealous woman with an assortment of paperwork going upstream.

End of line, end of line. And suddenly there it was, line in the ground and person sitting on it. His head lay on his open palm, his eyes stared at the horizon.

"Sir!"

"Yes?"

"I have everything you wanted, sir." she took a deep breath. "I hope that your loss-"

"It's all right, and thank you. You may go home now," the man stood up and took the package from her.

"You're welcome," she turned to leave, trying to shut off how guilty she felt.

"Ma'am?" it was the man again.

"Yes?" the air was so cold at night. She really wanted to be at home.

"You're a fast talker. That's all I wanted to say," was he shrugging? The woman imagined him shrugging. "Next time you come with your assignments, take the time to speak well."

"I'm a busy woman," she muttered, and with a sigh left the scene.

Description
The woman took out a pencil. She rolled it back and forth in her hands, feeling the texture behind her fingers. Valleys and mountains shaped by teeth, an eraser that was covered in a sheet of graphite, a tip that was uneven and paint-covered. It was an inadequate tool, but it must do.

She got out a sheet of paper, tapped at her teeth, then began to write down the instructions as fast as she could. The words lost meaning after a while, simply becoming iterations of lines, but still she recorded every single idea that came out of the instructor's mouth.

... And talk to person at end of line. An imaginary salute later, she was tearing the halls apart as she ran, searching madly for anything that might help her on her quest.

"Woman! Hey!" someone called out. "Hey, stop! Where are you going?" she waved back to him, then continued on her way.

As she exited the building, a few blackbirds cawed madly and scattered. The day was bright and blue, every colour saturated after last night's rain, puddles dotting the streets. She re-adjusted her glasses, then dashed down the sidewalk to her first destination.

It was nearly night-time, and a tired woman walked towards her final job. The puddles had disappeared after a day of evaporation. Cigarettes and light poles worked together to light the almost-sleeping town, and car lights followed each other down the curved streets. Everyone was going home and leaving the work district, except for one zealous woman with an assortment of paperwork going upstream.

End of line, end of line. And suddenly there it was, line in the ground and person sitting on it. His head lay on his open palm, his eyes stared at the horizon.

"Sir!"

"Yes?"

"I have everything you wanted, sir." she took a deep breath. "I hope that your loss-"

"It's all right, and thank you. You may go home now," the man stood up and took the package from her.

"You're welcome," she turned to leave, trying to shut off how guilty she felt.

"Ma'am?" it was the man again.

"Yes?" the air was so cold at night. She really wanted to be at home.

"You're a fast talker. That's all I wanted to say," was he shrugging? The woman imagined him shrugging. "Next time you come with your assignments, take the time to speak well."

"I'm a busy woman," she muttered, and with a sigh left the scene.