The sky was finally shifting to a mix of orange and red, both colours seeping in through the dull classroom windows. The pleasant lighting danced along the curves and edges of every object in the room, accentuating them. Warm light reflected dully off the clock as its thin black hands began to close in on the most important time of day: 3.30.
   3.30 meant to be free. To be melodramatic, it meant liberation. Not to say that the only thing I did when I got home was frown, but school required a lot of smiling. It takes more muscles to smile than to frown; it's science, not apathy.
   It took until now for me to notice how short the days still were. I probably should have noticed a few weeks ago that the days hadn't gotten much longer. It was strange that they were still so short in April. At least these short days were thoughtful enough to make everything look prettier - the red and orange lighting that had begun to seep into the room only added to the pleasant feel. Maybe pleasant was wrong here, though - I'm in my 3rd year, this is class 3-B. Lazy and pleasant shouldn't - and didn't - feel right.
   But the school day ended very soon. 3.30 was mere minutes away, so my education realisation would have to wait. Freedom at last. Not that I would be doing anything with my freedom, but it felt good to not have to do anything with it. That's the point of freedom, right?
   With the lame anticipation of home swimming in the front of my mind, I look around me. Even the white-grey walls looked a little better with the sky like this. By now, most people were quietly talking, though some had their heads on their desk, stifling yawn after yawn. Unsure which to partake of myself, I turn.