The test sits in front of me,
More like a prison cell wall then a
blanket of snow waiting for my tracks

I try to think,
But I am so rudely interrupted by the gurgling of the fish bowl behind me
How is that so loud?

Trying again,
I read the first question

Trying again,
I read the first question

Trying again,
I read the first question

Over and over, I read it
The information sticks to my brain,
But then slides off like spaghetti on a fridge
How do people ignore that noise?

Now I'm fixating.
Take a breath.
In,
Out.
I glance over
How is she halfway done?

I ask to move.
Sit down.
Yes, quiet.

I put pencil to paper
The scratching of my progress is the only static in my brain

Next page.
The words are on my fingertips as soon as I think them.
Next page.
I know this. I know this. I know all of this.
Last page.
Done already?

I look up.
Approach the desk.
Turn in the test

Suddenly, the question is not mine,
But everyone else's.
The words form on their lips before they look down again
How did she do that so fast?