First Impressions and How They Go Wrong
Jul 22, 2013 22:03:32 GMT -5
Post by Finn Ivanov on Jul 22, 2013 22:03:32 GMT -5
Any other teacher would have made a few trips from their car to their classroom, when they had a ton of textbooks and folders to carry. Unfortunately, Finn wasn't any other teacher; he was the new teacher trying to throw things together for his first classes, and he didn't want to keep his friend's borrowed car any longer than he had to. If he could have, he would've piled all his materials on the back of his bike.
Sometimes he hated cars being a necessary evil.
He was trying to keep the stack of books and folders balanced carefully as he made his way down the short set of stairs, which may have been possible- if the stack were half as high as it were, and not blocking his view of the steps. As it was, his heel slipped on the edge of a step and he had that momentary, sickening sensation of crap, I'm going to fall on my face right before he stumbled and fell down the last few steps.
He sure hoped that nobody nearby spoke the language he just used, because he had the feeling half the words that left his mouth could have gotten him fired.
The textbooks hit the floor with a thud that sounded deafening in the relative quiet of the hallway, and Finn's ankle was throbbing with pain, probably twisted on the way down. He ignored the books for the moment and pulled his leg in close, prodding the ankle with a hiss of pain. Yep, that would bruise impressively. He wouldn't be doing any Downward Dog in the morning, that was for sure.
Sometimes he hated cars being a necessary evil.
He was trying to keep the stack of books and folders balanced carefully as he made his way down the short set of stairs, which may have been possible- if the stack were half as high as it were, and not blocking his view of the steps. As it was, his heel slipped on the edge of a step and he had that momentary, sickening sensation of crap, I'm going to fall on my face right before he stumbled and fell down the last few steps.
He sure hoped that nobody nearby spoke the language he just used, because he had the feeling half the words that left his mouth could have gotten him fired.
The textbooks hit the floor with a thud that sounded deafening in the relative quiet of the hallway, and Finn's ankle was throbbing with pain, probably twisted on the way down. He ignored the books for the moment and pulled his leg in close, prodding the ankle with a hiss of pain. Yep, that would bruise impressively. He wouldn't be doing any Downward Dog in the morning, that was for sure.
