She walked into the classroom with long strides, draped in a fuchsia trench coat and a long, thin scarf. Her crooked, wrapped neck snapped around, bringing her into tedious eye contact with various unfortunate students. Her legs seemed to move as an entity of their own, their lengthiness transporting her ossified upper half around the small classroom. Finally, she paused from her stalking and stood completely still at the front of the classroom, the harsh fluorescent light catching a sparkle in her eye. “Class.” she drawled, the words crawled out of her mouth and lingered in the air. She reached for a piece of chalk; her slender spider-like fingers tightening around the utensil; as she began to scrape words onto the board letter by letter. The green slate read ‘Ms. Pasghetti’ in flawless calligraphy. She whipped around to reveal herself front side to the students; but only to be accompanied by her thoughts.