History snags heroes in its spines. The tyrant-ticklers, the boldest of the jimminies. And every hero sees their comrade as ten times the hero; clanking with medals while they cobble together a mission. This is school, and a small girl can only do so much. Your overlord for this afternoon, and the seeming rest of your life, is your headteacher. She is a solid wall of loathing for you all; a pitiless, pebble-dashed municipal building. But, like every dictator, her habits will undo her.
In the daily glug of water,
the spring newt wrassles and calms.
Lavender pretends to write.