Looking for Post

 Sometimes, often, I don't have any ideas. That's fine. But I want to work on building my discipline instead of relying on the much more elusive motivation.

I signed up for a word of the day email a while ago and, while those can be hit-or-miss, this one's been pretty good. Plenty of words I don't know, which I dutifully save into a folder.


That's really where the plan ended but now I shall endeavor to pick one of these at random and use it in a micro-fiction or such. I'm super concise, so it'll be easy... harumph.

Today's word: 

Realia: Objects and material from everyday life, especially when used as teaching aids.  (https://www.wordgenius.com/words/realia?utm_source=daily&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=1645954925)

It is difficult for anyone to come to a new place. A new job, a new school, a new neighborhood; everything is different, but with the kind of familiarity that resonates much too close to that which you once had. Like a musical you adore to hear, but sung by the wrong voice. 

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat on the bus -- the Monitor had told me that everyone wore shoes all of the time. I believed her, as I'd seen no bare feet since my arrival, but my toes chafed and none of the clothes fit me right, though they were purchased for me alone. Maybe that was why; I'd never worn anything someone else hadn't first broken in.

Some of the other students eyed me quizically but, as yet, none had approached. I was glad. It would suit me to have a guide of some kind, but a deep-seeded petulence wanted to succeed on my own, as I had for so long. This world was new to me, but I had conquored the old one, and I would do the same here.

A bag at my side held all the tools I would require today and I reminded myself not to grip it too tightly. It was unlikely here that any of my things would be taken, after all. The Monitor had spread everything on the table last night and explained the use of each thing before shoving the mess of realia into my bag. I didn't recognize half of what she showed me, and the things she took for granted were the ones I most wanted to know about. But I wouldn't ask.

When the bus stopped, the students around me started to exit. I waited for a gap in the bodies and joined the flow of people. It was rare for anyone to move faster or slower than the group, though the pace was infuriating to me -- I was never one to dawdle, but I wouldn't not start my day by standing out from the crowd.

Signage indicated the office, where I had been told to go. I received a schedule and map -- finally, something I understood -- and found the room where I would begin my newest education. I strode confidently toward a desk near the wall but the instructor caught my arm.

I stared at his hand until he removed it, but he only draped a thick forearm across my shoulders instead. My jaw ached from gritting my teeth, but I held still.

"Everyone," he announced. His tone was light and dismissive, but the students quieted nonetheless. "Everyone, this is our newest student. They're the first Visitor to our school and I want to make sure you all know, in case they need help with anything. Let's give them a round of applause in welcome!"

The noise was immediate and much too similar to sounds of danger. I eyed the door and windows, but the sound died down and I was encouraged to continue to a desk. I doubted I would be able to take revenge, but I would soon learn how these people could be best humiliated. And then all my people would know.


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