White Noise

Short weekly fiction, made up as I type. New drops every Wednesday.

The principal was irritated.

The old clock in the corner of the room ticked on in the dullness of a Tuesday afternoon. Outside the principal’s soundproof office he could sense, if not hear, the rest of the school carrying on. The teachers dutifully reciting lessons. Staff carrying out their duties. The tap tap tap of Ms Igbekova working at her computer just outside his office.

It was the monotony of order. He relished it, and any change to order upset him.

In front of him, on the opposite side of his huge mahogany desk, a mother had been talking to him with her son sitting in the chair next to her. She had been speaking for about 5 minutes and the principal was doing his best to ignore her while pretending to listen.

It was always the same; someone who didn’t deserve to have their child in his school always wanted to try and talk their way in. The odds were already stacked against her where she sat. A mother with no wedding band. Her bland mid-30’s facial features and clothes that were aggressively ordinary. To make matters worse, she kept having the audacity to make eye contact with him as she spoke.

But it was the boy that was really irritating him.