To the Annoying People in my Creative Writing Class, a Little "Story" About You.

The clock is ticking, ticking with a soft click that bellows through the room loudly, if you listen hard enough. The clicks become a rhythm and you slowly, leisurely begin to fall into step, listening obliviously as your eyes begin to close. What used to be the annoying shift in time is now a comforting hum that makes your body rest in tranquility.
Suddenly, the click dies and your eyes snap open from the sickening disturbance that is now a crowd. The kids that were surrounding you in a raucous are now louder, not like the familiar click, but like a woodchipper, a screeching metal noise that causes queer thoughts to sift through your mind. The crowd turns into a hum but not that of a graceful, elegant humming bird, but that of a cicada, whose only purpose for sound is to distract.
A shrill ring causes your rigid body to stiffen further while the screeching noise of metal fills the room along with impatient zips and terse footsteps scuttling towards the door in competition.
Soon, the raucous dies and the clicking of the clock sounds through your ears like a beautiful symphony of silence. A small smile dances across your relaxed lips. Tranquility at last.
Click.