Aaron

“In here,” the teacher says, staring at his students with eyes as big, round, and dark as plates covered in the shit of life lived too long, “you are mine.”
A mousy student, at the back of the musty, basement room, raises her hand.
The teacher’s bushy right eyebrow shoots up. “What?” he asks, his voice masking his frustration with a veneer of curiosity.
“It’s the 21st century, sir,” she says. “You’re mine.”