Nervous anticipation
Left alone with my thoughts, I couldn’t shake the lingering nerves, uncertain about how this confrontation would unfold. The once-bustling halls had fallen silent, and the tension in the air had begun to fade. After what felt like an eternity, the principal finally emerged, the boy following close behind with an expression impossible to decipher. There was no sign of triumph on his face, only a quiet, uneasy anticipation. I couldn’t help but wonder what the meeting had accomplished, hoping it had fostered some measure of understanding.
Nervous Anticipation
A reluctant apology
The boy halted in front of me, his shoulders rigid with tension. He muttered a stiff, reluctant “Sorry,” the word sounding strained, as though dragged out against his will. Over his shoulder, his friends lingered, their sharp glares accompanied by whispered remarks. He shifted uneasily, his expression a turbulent mix of discomfort and resentment. The apology lingered awkwardly in the air between us. It wasn’t much, but it was a beginning—however uneasy it felt.
A Reluctant Apology
