Spanish Class

Tick tock tick tock tic-
No
There’s no ticking. The clock is broken. The batteries died over 4 weeks ago, and our teacher has either forgotten to replace them, or she simply doesn’t care. I look up once more at the dead timekeeper and uselessly hope to see the minute hand wave back at me. No luck. The clock’s hands permanently linger at the 10:38 stance, though looking outside it is not dark enough to be 10:38 PM, nor is it so early to be 10:38 AM. I try to direct my attention to the teacher who has been droning on about some Spanish verbs for I don’t know how many minutes now and long for this class to reach its end. My friend looks at me and taps her wrist, a gesture to ask: “What time is it?” I remove my phone from my backpack, attempting to hide it from the teachers gaze, so it wouldn’t be taken away, as I presume my friend’s phone has. I indicate with my fingers: 1:34. She rolls her eyes. As if to say, “Only 1:34?”I shrug. Ten more minutes.