“The unit we’re working on this semester is poetry.” He motions a hand to the smart board where it listed requirements for the poem and when it’s due.

Mr. Golding sat at his desk, grading papers. You being new, found your English teacher very attractive. And it seemed the other girls in your class did as well. You watch as the girls ask stupid questions just to grab his attention.

He sat in his leather chair behind his oakwood desk. His veiny hands typing away at his computer.