The smell of the janitor’s cleaning fluid and aging books filled the air. A flickering light swung from its ballast. The building felt haunted but squeaking gym shoes and laughing students still echoed through the halls.
Locker doors hung haphazardly open. Stray notebooks, food wrappers, and pencils littered some while other were pristinely clean. The paint was chipped and faded from the abuse students extolled on them.
She found her way through the halls to the library. The doors were left ajar so she walked in. A woman smiled and waved hello as she moved behind the desk.
She opened the door to a back classroom. She could have come in the outside door, but she didn’t. The room was filled with blue cabinets and tables and chairs.
Two typewriters set on the countertop. The forms she needed to complete waited for her. This would be her last act before departing for summer.
The top of the first form was titled “Requisition Form”; the other “Grant.” She set to filling them out. A student had to fill them out, to make the request.
She tapped on the keys, making the case for the first computer to be used by the yearbook staff. Her advisor sat at the desk.
She would pause and ask for guidance, but finally the form was complete. The wheel gears spun as she pulled out the form. Her job here was done.
Now it was in the hands of others. Would they get a Macintosh next school year? Only time would tell.