Beauty and Grace

Jan Hannah

2008

The view through the glass partition did not fill me with enthusiasm, not in the slightest. I sighed and stood staring in contemplation; wiped my sweaty hands down my trousers, chewed the side of my mouth, and entered. If another option had come to me I wouldn't have.

The dull classroom was scattered with bodies that were sat everywhere and anywhere around the randomly placed tables. Four of them were slouched over with their heads resting in their arms, either sleeping or recovering from the morning methadone hit; about the same again were sitting upright with their arms folded, looking as enthusiastic as damp old jay clothes; and the same again, maybe, prancing around like the dysfunctional teenagers I had just left in my previous job. ... (continues)