Las Palmas Fries
The trees provide ample shade as one by one the students take their seats on the old benches. Murals splash the walls in bright colors, stone seats freeze their legs, and conversation is minimal as food takes priority; talking takes place only between the ones without any. A long while passes with some seats still empty and the few start to worry for their missing companions., Before they ponder for too long, the absentees arrive through the hall that’s lined with windows peeking into various rooms. The first few walk through the door in a bubble of chatter arriving with food in styrofoam holders bought from the neighboring restaurant. they open their styrofoam containers as the smell of hot, salty, greasy food fills the hall and garden as if they brought the entirety of Las Palmas to the school. A grumble of jealousy floods the conversation and with little negotiation, the fries take to the floor being passed from one person to another and back to their owner. As if that was what everyone was waiting on, the hall filled with talk, small bundles of interaction start slowly building in volume as the topics become increasingly absurd. As fries move from friend to friend the volume rises to unruly levels angering nearby teachers and staff and so it lowers, for a minute, then they are back at it again louder and louder till their phones tell them it’s time for class. The hall garden falls quiet aside from the few students that pass through until lunch tomorrow.
– Breanna Topolinski
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