The bell rings and Vera rushes into her seat, not because she’s late, but so she’s not late. Of course this means she’s one of the first people in class; only 2 others beside her in the class; empty chairs waiting for bodies to enter them.

Once Vera finds her seat, she sits for a bit contemplating what to do before the class strolls in and class starts. After thinking for some time, she pulls out a textbook and some paper from her bag to finish some homework. Fifteen minutes later, another bell rings and she hears chatter around her. Looking up, she sees the class is full and her teacher is standing in front of the board writing notes. Quickly, Vera puts her finished work away and takes out her binder to copy the notes.

Just as Vera sighs, happy to have finished the notes, someone taps her shoulder. She tenses. “What?” she asks, her face automatically glaring.

“Can I borrow a pen? I left mine at home,” a boy says, giving her a smile.

Turning around to search through her backpack, she reluctantly gives him a pen.

“Thank you,” he says, as he starts to take notes.

Vera tries to focus on what the teacher was explaining to the class, but found herself turning again to observe the boy. With his nose practically pressed against his page, he quickly wrote the notes down without looking at the board. It amazed her and she almost let out a gasp. Observing his handwriting, she happily notes that his handwriting was rather legible and easy to read. Just before she can point out anything else, he starts to look up, and just as he does, she turns around. She sighs.

At the end of the class, just as Vera starts to rush out to her next class, the boy tries to stop her. “Here’s your-”

“Excuse me,” she says, before continuing to her second class.

“Here’s your pen,” he says, seconds too late.