School. She beamed as she smacked her Chemistry paper against someone's desk.

"I got a ONE HUNDRED!" she shouted.
Some people gawked. Others applauded.
I wasn't there--I was thinking about something stuck in my back, a big red panel with blueish glue glopping down. It felt like a gigantic sticky starfish.

"Fish..." I exclaimed. 
"I got a ONE HUNDRED!" she shouted.

The theme was supermarket. We were all aligned, waiting for the bathroom to clear up. The buses had gone on an unexpected strike, and our bodies felt like lumps of coal as we dragged our feet to our stools. I somehow fainted along the way--but nobody took much notice. I jolted upwards and resumed walking; was I only pretending to faint?

Many people kept on congratulating me. I smiled.

I went outside, saw that I'd come out on the most familiar street in the city. Humming, I started to walk home. Then I reckoned I'd forgotten my camera in one of the stools, so I made a quick turn and went back.

The entire city was then wiped out by a massive, beautiful song.