Why are we still here?

Outside the storm unleashed it’s hell.  Rain pets the windows of the classes she sits in, so hard that she thinks for sure they are going to crack under the strain.  Winds gust throwing bits of mud and broken branches against the outer walls.  Her professor carries on, trying not to get distracted by the noises.  Down the hall she hears the doors that lead outside being blown in.  Tension riddles her body as she and the professor meet desperate eyes.  Neither can look away for fear that their emotions would come crashing through like the wind did to the doors.  Her fingers tightly grip her pencil as giant claps of thunder roll by overhead, making the walls shake and the floors vibrate.  During those instances the professor hesitates and makes the girl want to run out into the hall.  She can’t see through the closed blinds but she knows the sky is lighting up with lightning.  It’s amazing that the power hasn’t gone out, but she prays it would to force the professor to stop his lesson.  Why the hell are they even in class during a tornado warning!?


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