Shopping.

Crowded classroom, cacophony of the students and the professor yelling louder than all students combined. ( I didn’t know that was even possible!)

PERFECT time to visit my mall of thoughts -Ping! The doors open, welcoming me with open arms. However, it’s not bright as the last time I visited it. It looks a little more dead, a little more dull.

I just walk along my aisle of thoughts, shopping for thoughts I don’t need, just to pay for them later as they permanently occupy a place in my mind. I look for fresh thoughts, the verdant ones. But that’s what happens when the good ones are at the top shelf (where you can’t reach them) or out of stock entirely.

I seek help, maybe someone could help me reach the top. Maybe someone could help me find a ladder or maybe I could simply request someone to restock the mall. I look around, still no one. Deserted mall, the most ideal place for a murder. The murder of creativity, perhaps.

Who could possibly aide my mission? And just when I’m about of have an epiphany, I snap back to reality; back to the gloomy, cacophony consumed classroom.

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