The Ficlet or The Lecture

Eyes downcast and face lit by the first flickerings of her laptop, she sits in the back of the lecture hall.
“Come on, come on,” she quietly urges the wireless connection, willing it to work in the dusty corner of campus to which this lecture has been condemned. Just a bit more for that PhD, she tells herself.

” what one culture might be viewed as barbaric can be perpetuated from generation to generation,” drones the professor, a doddering pervert who hasn’t seen the field in years. At least here in the back he couldn’t try to look up her skirt.

What was the topic today? She glances at the syllabus: Initiation Rites of Papua New Guinea. Remembering her brief skimming of the reading the night before, she shudders. Why do we always have to dwell on the creepy stuff, she wonders. But before she can dwell too long, the screen comes fully to life, the browser is open, and it’s time to ficlet.

Hmm, she wonders, what would be more interesting to write about than another dry anthropology lecture?

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