>Writer's Workshop: Weathered-The Professor
>“If you want to make your dreams come true, the first thing you have to do is wake up.” ~J.M. Power
Is this like “the early bird catches the worm?” Blair wondered to herself. She was still trying to figure out how she ended up in the whole Quotes for Life class she is taking in the first place. She had no recollection of signing up. In fact, this part of the city isn’t even familiar to her. She took in the shabby threadbare carpet below her feet, the faded, out-dated paper on the walls. It reminded her of a cheap funeral parlor. How the hell did I end up in this god forsaken place? She shook her head. She was about to put the pamphlet down and leave when she was reminded of why she here. Oh how could I ever have forgotten him?
She looks him over from head to toe, relishing in her cleverness to see him again. He was still just as handsome to her as he had been that day at the Art Expo. The difference was today he had on a clean button down shirt, casually tucked into the waistband of his stonewashed blue jeans. There was no streak of paint in his hair. His blue eyes still managed to take her breath away.
She gasped quietly as she realizes he hasn’t recognized her. She takes a small step and manages to successfully bump into him.
“Oh! I’m so sorry! Excuse me!!” she says to him. She puts a sheepish look on her face, then acts surprised to see him. “Oh! Hi. I didn’t expect to see you again. What are you doing here?”
“I teach this class. Are you a new student?” His voice still made her tremble. I knew that. What I don’t know is why you teach this class. She wasn’t brave enough to say it out loud. “Or are you still trying to buy art that is not for sale?”
Her eyes blazed and he chuckled softly to himself. She thought it was a rather nice sound. “No, no, I’m taking this class. My father insisted on it. You know how stubborn a Weathers can be…”
“Indeed I do. Shall we go in? The class is about to start.” He touches her shoulder gently, nudging her towards the door. She takes the first available seat while he walks to the front of the room, in the open space that holds a small table with paraphernalia on it and a podium. He stands behind the podium, looking tall and important. He takes a sip of water and clears his throat. “Shall we begin?”