Chapter 1 - Glances.
Jan. 20th, 2012 11:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
confessionsofamaskJess scratched her head with both hands while her professor talked. She idly wondered if she would talk in class today. She didn't mind talking, but her standards for when she should do it were high. She would get downright embarrassed listening to her classmates let out whatever thoughts happened to wander into their heads. Avoiding that was priority number one, some days.
She scanned around the room. Too familiar, as she had had a class here the previous semester. A very different class with very different people, she realized. She jotted down more notes while considering the number of people who had passed through this room over the years. During times like this, she went through what she knew of her classmates, how much she had actually come to bond with them and in what fashion, and considered, mathematically, just what the odds of finding someone with whom a real connection could be forged with were, out of all those people. She had to take into account the demographics of the type of people who would be at her school in the first place -- age, income, background -- of course, and ponder just what the likelihood of being able to breach the ever-impenetrable walls of social disguises and isolation masquerading as friendliness was to even gauge whether this was a worthwhile social avenue to travel down.
Hmm, she thought. Hmm.
She glanced at the girl across the room. Not directly across, but just to the left of the one whose eye contact she perpetually made by virtue of the circular arrangement of chairs. Just to the left.
She scanned around the room. Too familiar, as she had had a class here the previous semester. A very different class with very different people, she realized. She jotted down more notes while considering the number of people who had passed through this room over the years. During times like this, she went through what she knew of her classmates, how much she had actually come to bond with them and in what fashion, and considered, mathematically, just what the odds of finding someone with whom a real connection could be forged with were, out of all those people. She had to take into account the demographics of the type of people who would be at her school in the first place -- age, income, background -- of course, and ponder just what the likelihood of being able to breach the ever-impenetrable walls of social disguises and isolation masquerading as friendliness was to even gauge whether this was a worthwhile social avenue to travel down.
Hmm, she thought. Hmm.
She glanced at the girl across the room. Not directly across, but just to the left of the one whose eye contact she perpetually made by virtue of the circular arrangement of chairs. Just to the left.
