I can’t be late… I can’t be… the lecture ran over, the door wouldn’t open, that odd girl with the violin wouldn’t let me out of the main exit… then I couldn’t open the padlock. Typical, but at least I’m on my way now… and the weather’s good. It’s so good to be out here after being in that stuffy hall, and I’m feeling more awake… Professor Aggarra just drones on and on, I mean it isn’t our job to dust the place… shouldn’t they have cleaners to do tha… woah…! That girl by the tree has just been tasered or something, from that building… she seems, no, she’s standing up… she’s fine… she’s talking to that guy and the history professor. I really should go over and see if she’s alright, but she’s up and talking to them, so they can deal with it. I can’t make myself any later… not today.
Posted for Six Sentence Stories. The prompt word this week is Dust.
The Mansionic Perspective 
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