The pencil slipped out of his hand and fell to the floor. As he leaned over to retrieve it the throbbing againts his forehead and temples deepened. His fingers attempted to pick the already slick pencil up but the task almost became impossible with the sweat permeating from his palms.

After about three attempts he finally felt a solid grasp and pushed himself back up to once again be face to face with the very pinnacle of his future. Who would have thought that the one thing in Peter’s life that could stop him from his dreams would be a one inch thick stack of white papers.

_Tik, tok, tik, tok_

The ticking of the clock was always the loudest thing in the mundane, drab room. He frequented this place multiple times a semester and never has the ticking got to him. This time was different though, this time the ticking of the clock instilled anxiety. With each tik and each tok he was closer and closer to running out of his allotted time to finish the gods forsaken test.

Freedom was on the other side of that clock though. Also with each tik and each tok meant that at some point he would be free. Time could not stop here in this unbearable anxious moment. It was just a matter of if he would be free in the way he desired.

With his pencil finally in hand and gripped firmly the tension in his head pulled tighter focusing its hold right in the center of his eyes. It hurt like hell but his mind was focused, concentrated directly on each question and each bubble he darkened for an answer. With each darkened circle his tenstion loosened a fraction of the built up pressure, realeasing each piece of knowledge from his mind like keeping a shaken soda can from exploding. Bit by bit the pressure eased. Scribble by scribble the tension waned.

He knew the answers and rarely second guessed himself. All those late nights of studying, skipped parties, dates, and spontaneous vacations he choose to forego were all paying off with each turn of the stack of papers in front of him.

_Tik, tok, tik, tok _

The beating heart in his chest kept time with the rhythm of the clock now. Each beat growing rapidly. The future he knew he could have, the life he knew he could live was right there just in reach of his grasp as long as he could just extend his mind a little further to grasp it, and cradle that future like a newborn babe.

Sketching his number two pencil along the final tiny bubble, he flopped back into his chair, allowing his lungs to release his breathe he didn’t realize he had been holding for the last minute. The thumping of his heart now slowing to a normal beat, away from the ticking clock on the wall. Sweat on his forehead sticks to the hair there and with a slight tossel of his right hand he smooths it back and off the moisture.

Now it’s time to let it all go, there is nothing else he can possibly do at this point. Peter turns in his chair to stand, grabs his test and number two pencil and makes his way to the front of the room, through the door, and on to the future that this moment brings him.