Confidence

By Jack Swan

Paul had the confidence to do it.

The exam wasn’t going well. In fact, none of them had. Nothing had really gone right since he had started college – a ‘step forwards’ that, in reality, had brought him everything except fortune. It had been a long year of pain, confusion, and self-doubt. And at the same time, it had been a long year of ideas, plans, and hopes. And now, this very moment, seemed the perfect time.

He put the lid on his pen, slipped it into his inside pocket, pushed the chair back noisily, and got up. A hundred pairs of eyes, divided by row and column, rose from exam papers to stare at him. He looked over the sea of faces, the visage of new friends and a handful of new enemies he had made this last year, and shrugged.

“Bye, guys,” he announced, brashly. Already invigilators were pacing towards him, but Paul really didn’t care. He stepped out into aisle and weaved past desks to the double doors at the end of the hall.

“What do you think you’re doing?” hissed one, haggard grey-haired man with wide-rimmed glasses that hadn’t changed style since the late 80s. Paul looked at him over his shoulder as he walked onwards.

“Living.”

He pushed open the double doors and felt the sunlight. The morning’s grey sky was already beginning to give way to sun.