In My Professor's Arms
I rose, my backpack weighty, my skirt flowing, my tee stuck, my voice caught, my throat constricted, my heart racing, his office narrowing, the bookcases looming, the window closed, the campus buzzing behind.
"I need a book," I said to him, voice low, shaking, eyes on his desk, the papers, the cup, not wishing to see him, his face, his eyes, his integrity. "Beyond Good and Evil by Friedrich Nietzsche." Summer class.
"I need it before evening. You… you have it, don't you?" My words were guarded, my need bare, and my heart racing.
He nodded, not looking, his fingers pausing, his sigh heavy, his chair creaking as he leaned back, his eyes on me now, sharp, tired, no fire, no want, just fatigue.
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