Tabitha – defiant, sharp-tongued, proud.
“You may stand there,” a voice said from the chair, calm as stone, “and consider the weight of choices.”
Tabitha’s fingers curled at her sides. The clock on the wall ticked. The hourglass drained. And somewhere deep in her chest, a strange, defiant calm began to grow—because she knew, just as surely as the next grain of sand would fall, that this office would not break her.
The polished oak door clicked shut, sealing Tabitha in the silence of the Headmaster’s Office. Sunlight slanted through the venetian blinds, striping the Persian rug in bars of gold and shadow. Behind the immense desk, a high-backed leather chair faced the window—patient, unyielding.
It would bind her first. Scene: The Headmaster’s Office, after hours.
Tabitha – defiant, sharp-tongued, proud.
“You may stand there,” a voice said from the chair, calm as stone, “and consider the weight of choices.”
Tabitha’s fingers curled at her sides. The clock on the wall ticked. The hourglass drained. And somewhere deep in her chest, a strange, defiant calm began to grow—because she knew, just as surely as the next grain of sand would fall, that this office would not break her.
The polished oak door clicked shut, sealing Tabitha in the silence of the Headmaster’s Office. Sunlight slanted through the venetian blinds, striping the Persian rug in bars of gold and shadow. Behind the immense desk, a high-backed leather chair faced the window—patient, unyielding.
It would bind her first. Scene: The Headmaster’s Office, after hours.
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