Art

The greatest lie the professor ever said was that it was about art. She said it to inspire her students. Their fading eyes in her 8 a.m. class needed life. So she told them a lie.

She didn’t think much of it, unaware that it even was a lie. It just sounded good.

“Everything you do is a chance to make art,” she said. Some students raised their eyebrows. “It is not enough to make when you can make greatness.”

When the professor biked home that day in her yellow rain slicker, she was fixated on the sound of her bike. There was some mechanical ticking that, no matter how many times she took it to the coop, seemed to never go away. Didn’t matter the gear, the chain, or the derailleur. There was always a persistent clicking.

What if it’s me, she thought. I produce the sound.

Her face, usually flushed from the vigorous ride home, showed white on that rainy day.