Red Tie Detention Foreva

She is not late. You are.

The uniform is perfect. Too perfect. The red tie is tied with a knot that has a name in three languages. You tried to tie it once. You got a YouTube tutorial. You cried. She did not cry. She tied it in the dark, with her eyes closed, while reciting something that is not a poem and is not a threat but somehow sounds like both.

She is looking at you because you forgot the homework. Not today's homework. Homework from 2017. She kept it. She laminated it. She has a file with your name and a red stamp that says "incomplete" and the ink is still wet because she re-wets it every morning with her disappointment.

The collar is not a collar. It is a frame. It frames the neck that never swallows. She does not eat. She does not blink. She does not need to because she is not alive in the biological sense. She is alive in the institutional sense. She is tenure. She is policy. She is the reason the handbook has an appendix.

Her eyes are brown because red was too on-the-nose. Brown says I have seen worse. Brown says you are worse. Brown says sit down, open your notebook, and pretend you understand why the red tie matters more than your GPA ever will.

"The bell does not dismiss you. She dismisses you. She has not dismissed you."