Sine over cosine equals tangent. A fly is hitting the window, over and over, by his ear. The square on the hypotenuse is equal … Every time it hits, the buzz-drone jumps. He is staring at the pattern of its tiny marks, and imagining Charlie, naked. Want to smell my cheese? It’s his mate, this fly. Trapped, like him; cruel, really. He bends back his clear plastic ruler to give it a good, hard whack into oblivion, and misses. The fly fizzes up the pane to do its business further off and Miss looks straight at him, sideways, as always. His eyes drop to the notes on his desk. Eat it and find out. Two desks to his left, Charlie shimmers: perfect, engrossing, red cheeks glowing under eyes as blue as this summer afternoon. But those eyes are not on him. They are on Miss. An equailateral triangle. Always.
From: Ad Hoc Fiction