In the Shadows of Laughter

The hallway hums, a beehive of chatter, Words tumbling over one another, Laughter erupting like firecrackers in the midday sun. They walk in pairs, in groups— Eyes bright, secrets whispered, Hands brushing shoulders, Echoing the warmth of a world I can only watch.

I slip past them, A ghost threading through a tapestry of connection. My footsteps drown beneath their conversations, And I find my corner, Where silence wraps itself around me Like a blanket woven of solitude.

The desk feels colder here, Tucked against the wall, Where my books become my companions— Ink and paper, the only ones who listen. Pages murmur stories Of heroes who fight, Of love that binds, Of courage that feels so far away.

I see them share their lives like treasure maps, Tracing joy in the air with fingertips. Their voices rise, harmonizing a song I do not know the lyrics to. My own words falter, Caught in my throat like birds afraid to fly.

Is it my fault, This exile I have built for myself? Or am I simply the space between them, The quiet pause That lets their laughter ring clearer?

But the corner is safe, Safe in its stillness, Safe from the stares that weigh heavy as stones. I find solace in the rhythm of my pen, The steady march of equations, The melody of stories yet untold.

Perhaps one day, The ink will bridge the chasm, A letter, a line, a word That will make someone pause, Turn, and see me sitting there— Not a shadow, But a soul.

Until then, I am the quiet observer, The keeper of unwritten tales, Lost in the noise, Yet whole in the silence.