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One Way Mirror
The rectangular doorway
frames his form sitting
in a field of empty desks.
His body is poised in concentration,
motionless,
the Thinker in the flesh.
He is intensely scribbling,
a human typewriter,
the pen in his hand mechanically
flowing across the page.
He only pauses to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose,
never looking up,
never acknowledging the open door,
never noticing her observing him
through the makeshift one way mirror.
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The classrooms at my school have adjoining doors, so you can see into the class next door if they are left open. The door was open one day in one of my classes, and I noticed a boy completely lost in his own world while working. His absolute concentration inspired me to write this.