Inez awaited the bus, but after five minutes, her patience ran out. Thereupon, she hailed a taxi. Upon arriving at the school, she paid more than what the chauffeur had demanded, and sprinted through the chief corridor right into reception, her heavy breathings heard by every student that passed by.
The air of his office smelled like old dessert foods. Saccharine and familiar, but different. Standing and staring out of his window was Brenton’s elusive Principal, Miles Pine. He was a picture of a boring individual. He dressed in a plain t-shirt, a pair of boring brown trousers, and a pair of worn leather shoes. If you were to pass by him on the street, you wouldn’t recognize him if you were to see him again. To Inez Darío, he was good old Mister Pine, her mentor.
The dad elated beamed with pride,
went ahead to make a point.
‘Your worth’s fixed at the right place,
and that’s my sole viewpoint.’