somnium

eleven.

Fear stood in the doorway of the classroom, leaning against the door frame. Students milled about, having last minute conversations in the hallway before entering the room. The professor wasn't there yet.

His eyes scanned the room, taking in the tired eyes and the nervous tapping of feet or pencils against desks.

Test day.

Those days were always simple. A lot of the students were nervous for tests; it wasn't hard to paint pictures for them. It was a simple fear. A common fear.

He ambled through the aisles, gently touching the shoulders of a few students here and there: the ones who were anxious and jittery after drinking too much coffee in an effort to stay awake, the ones who hadn't studied enough, and the few who had to do well on this test or risk flunking out of the class.

And then Piper.

She was sitting stiffly in her desk at the front of the room. He'd noticed that she always positioned herself closest to the door, as if she were preparing to have to make a quick getaway. She kept glancing anxiously at the door and the trashcan, and swallowing, as if she felt sick and were afraid she would throw up.

Fear sighed. He came to stand next to her desk and reached out a hand, hesitating just before touching her shoulder. He shouldn't. She had to face it on her own. She had to fight it. But couldn't he make it better for her? Take it away for just a bit? Would it be right?

He clenched his fist, withdrawing his hand. No. It wouldn't be fair, and it would set a bad precedent. He had to do his job.

He frowned and moved to the front of the classroom, looking out over the students. The professor arrived.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please put away your books and papers. We're about to begin."

He felt Piper's fear spike, and closed his eyes. Do your job. So he touched her shoulder, and gave her her fears, just as if she were anyone else.

For really, she was. One face in a sea of thousands.