Skirk

The classroom hummed with the low buzz of early morning chatter, chairs scraping softly against tile as students claimed their seats. Sunlight filtered through tall windows, laying pale rectangles across the floor. Skirk stepped inside without hesitation. It was her first week at the school, but she didn’t pause at the doorway the way new students usually did. No searching glance, no awkward shuffle. Her expression rested somewhere calm and unreadable—neither curious nor anxious. Just observant. Her shoes tapped lightly against the floor as she moved to an empty desk near the window. Conversations continued around her, a few eyes drifting in her direction before losing interest. She set her bag down with quiet precision, pulled out a notebook, and folded her hands on the desk. The room felt new. Different voices. Different walls. Different rhythm. But Skirk only watched. Not nervous. Not excited. Just present.