1  :  3  0   P.M;      Thursday

                  She was right, just as she always is. This Kim Jongin is boring. Being the perfect human being she is, she’s already memorized the contents of her textbook from title page to the appendix. Of course, every exercise and problem has already been answered.  She knew the subject like the back of her hand.

                  There’s nothing better than admiring nature from the windows of a classroom that’s reeking of new ball pens and old knowledge.  The professor’s words get tangled in the branches of a cherry blossom tree.

                  “Miss Im, are you still with us?”

                  She could feel her someone’s presence beside her. She merely blinks. “Do you like shooting stars?”

                  “Who doesn’t like shooting stars?” He asks, his voice muted to the point where only Yoona could hear.

                  “Do you believe in daytime shooting stars? The ones that fall without anyone noticing because they’re too blinded by a closer star?” Only Professor Kim could hear her voice and the sadness etched in her syllables.

                  “I’ve never thought of that, but I suppose it’s possible.” He concludes.

                  She nods her head; a signal for him to move on and leave her be.

                  Kim Jongin stumbles to the board, somehow forgetting why he approached Miss Im in the first place.

                  He clears his throat to catch his students’ attention because his had been swept away by his daydreaming pupil at the back of the class.

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