The Final Hour

Her hand gripped the cold cylinder piped with fluid.  There was a tension in the air. Waiting.


Stomach in a knot, sweat making its way down the sides of her face. Heartbeat racing, sounding louder and louder with each passing second.


Each moment being measured by the ever pounding muscle responding to the angst.  Breathing faster, harder, her body screamed for oxygen, for a pure breath that would satiate.


The tension in the air, palpable. Nothing could cut through the anguish, the fear that hung like heavy winter drapes. Covering the room with a pall, the muffled silence amplified the moment.


Electric lighting, bland and tin like.  The artificial glow creating a washed out look of all that it touched. Buzzing current, coursing through copper lines, racing to its destination.  A cold surface, smooth and ungiving. Waiting. 


No warmth here, no love, no care.


Papers shuffled, quieted coughs, feet swinging. Waiting.


Over an hour passed, the final exam was done.



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