I walk into the room at a steady pace eyes low to the floor as think about where I want to go to lunch today but after I walk past the threshold I remember I brought a packed lunch in my backpack. An echoing voice greets me as my eyes flutter up to meet theirs. I exchange small talk with another student, discussing the reading we were assigned in creative writing the night before. As I make my way to my desk I flash a smile to a friend sitting in the desk beside mine. He asks me how I am and as I sit down I explain how my day has had an undesired start filled with a math test and English quiz I should have spent more time preparing for. He looks at me with sympathetic eyes and he smiles through his reassurance that I can do better on the next quiz.
I settle myself in my chair I pull out my container of fruit like a subconscious routine. I peel back the lid to reveal the bright yellow glistening pineapple. The flavor explodes in my mouth and my lips tighten at the sweet but sour taste. This continues through every piece of pineapple that enters my mouth. The sweet juice rests upon my lips and a drop rolls down my chin leaving a wet trail on my skin.
My teacher is presenting the lesson on the correct way to revise and improve writing. I looked over at the kid next to me just in time to watch his nose scrunch up, his eyes squeeze shut, and his mouth tests the limits of how wide it can open. His yawn was contagious and I fought back the urge trying not to give evidence as to how bored I actually was.  I direct my attention back to my teacher and as I listen to him I can't help but linger on the intriguingly unique taste of this foreign fruit. Before I know it I'm indulging in the last piece of decadence. I gaze at the yellowish liquid in the bottom of my plastic container in almost disbelief that I had finished my snack so quickly. It reminds me of a shallow pond. My desk vibrates from the continuous movement of my leg. The liquid blanketing the rectangular container ripples outwards. It’s perfectly in rhythm with my leg and the slow movement occurs as if it were a heartbeat. Its mesmerizing motion capture my stare and I focus in on it as the noise around me because muffled and unclear. Eventually all I could hear was my own heartbeat and with each beat a wave rippled across the container.
For a brief moment I was content, but this faded away in the realization I had nothing left in my container. My stare was interrupted by the sound of my teacher’s voice rising, and slowly the sounds around me flooded my ears. Everyone around me was all talking at once, each person attempting to outdo the other. Their voices were loud and disruptive as they talked over one another. With this I came back to reality and settled into my seat to refocus my attention on the lesson. But I longed to be back in that trance, where all I could hear was the calm simple beating of my own heart.