Rowdy adolescents might very well ruin a good day when one is a teacher. And one would assume talkative sixteen-year-olds are, in fact, a teacher's only issue. But when it comes down to what truly makes a day pass over the 'ruined' threshold, it is not the children; but one's own colleagues.

The staffroom was jam-packed during recess, as per usual; and the smell of coffee was far too strong for anyone who was not used to being in that room every day. Still, the sound of the year 11's playing football was somehow comforting as Benedict sipped on his overpriced coffee, knowing well enough he still had some colour wheel exercise sheets to grade.

It had become somewhat of a habit to stay in the staffroom during recess. He used to hate it back at the beginning of his years as teacher, but now the small talk was tolerable, and certainly less anxiety-inducing than having to quarrel with the boys whenever they accidentally sent a ball right into a girl's face. His female colleagues dealt with it much better than he did.

And yet, every time Marnie Davies came around to talk to him, he wished it were him getting hit instead. Maybe his head would hurt less if—

“—so I thought I'd talk to you again, because it really is bugging me.”

Benedict barely heard her over the sound of a forming migraine and the chatter by the coffee machine, but he didn't really need to. She had complained at least half a dozen times in the past week over an issue with his parking spot. Beaureocracy had failed to assign different lots to them, and now the first one to arrive was the one who got the privilege.

“I've told you, I have nothing to do with the fixing of that problem, you should go talk to administration about it.”

Benedict said, with a smile so polite it might have been genuine, taking a sip from his coffee to hide how fast the smile fell off his lips.