Bang crash the wood work room was noisy.The lights were flickering on and off, the drill's zooming through the wood like a pen clicking shut. The wood work smelled of fresh glue, and saw dust that floated through the soft air. The room was hot, and sticky with our geeky glasses and long baggy apron's with a big variety of colours. The noise was irratating; the soft comfy ear muffs surronded my ears, the earings piercing my skin. My nails were filled with glue underneath and ontop of my nails. My eyes were getting tired, I yawned. My black top was sticking to my skin the back of my apron tied to tight for comfort. Everyone was running into each other, crashing, and tipping over the nails that were placed lazily on the table.
Finishing my latest product, two more terms until high school, can't wait to go but don't want to leave the wood work room. The noise fading as I head out the door getting ready to leave.
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