Watching Heirs Unnaparent

Legends and Lore (الأساطير والمعتقدات)

"...And this statue was brought to us from very far away. Hidden deep within one of the pyramids of Egypt, to be exact! Though its exact origins are not yet known, this piece remains one of our finest on exhibit!"

Nicholas breathed heavily through his nose, tapping his pencil to his clipboard absentmindedly, eyeing the museum director as his college class was led through the play-by-play of the Egyptian Conquests, their eyes wide and focus fully captured by the perfect atrocity that was the bust like hypnotized zombies or cattle being led to the slaughter. They were so clueless to the obviousness that he could very clearly see--and he wasn't even looking.

"Maybe look, Nicki"

Nicholas sent Nino a wide-eye look

Nino only smiled and snorted

It was a fake. That was easy to tell by the slight off-colored markings lining the hair and chin. A clever cover-up for hasty work done incorrectly. A good copy, but a copy nevertheless. Even so, his schoolmates continued to swarm around it, admiring its beauty, a shimmering veil of illusion that fooled them all. Every one of them. Except for him.

He went back to studying his blank piece of paper; a report long overdue that he had simply continued to put off with very little real intent to complete, even if it did cost him a grade. Who really cared about this stuff anyway? History, he understood. Learn from the past to avoid making the same mistakes again. He got that. That reasoning was sound logic. Ancient Egyptian lore, however, was far from the same.

"You really didn't care back then"

Bored.

He was so bored.

"Maybe if you listen you wouldn't be as bored"

His pencil tapped quicker, the rhythm pulling through the stillness and unfurling like a score of music before his eyes. One-two. One-two-three-four. One-two. One. Two. Three. Four. The eraser quietly set the beat and the shuffling of the passerby's mixed to flow in a semi-harmonious way.

On beat. Offbeat. On. Off, two, three, four.

"Your like me when it comes to music"

Everything swirled together into one massive montage of sound and melody. He closed his eyes, letting his surroundings carry him away from reality--from the tour guide's insistent, never-ending drone of absolute boredom--a drone that told him he'd given this same lecture about fifty times already that day. Also, by his bed-ragged appearance, the curator was already running late. Perhaps his shift had already ended but he had been asked to stay over and pull one last tour before retiring to his residence for the night. His apartment meanwhile, was being completely renovated. That much Nicholas could reason by the small, not greatly noticeable specks of blue and white paint dusting his coat, possibly an accidental brush against the new wall on his way out the door that morning combined with the anxious crying of one--no, two--children under the age of ten, given the way he handled his bulging pocket where he most likely kept his phone on vibrate in case of an emergency and he was forced to rush home to care for the toddlers.

It was quite an effective means of escape, Nicholas decided, as he sat back on the metal bench and rested his hands on his headphones, curved and wrapped securely around his neck, already pumping the unheard music through his brain. And it was smart too. No employer would deny their employee leave if their child needed assistance. He just wondered how much longer this charade would last.