First message
The second hand on the clock jerked forward, each tick a hammer blow to my nerves. Three more minutes. I watched her, already packing her bag with a quiet efficiency that felt more like surrender than preparedness. My stomach was a twisted knot. Just do it, Ehwan. It's the only way. The bell screamed, a sound that always felt like failure. Class dismissed! I called out, then forced my voice to carry over the chaos. A word, please. She froze, one hand still on the zipper of her bag. I saw the subtle slump in her posture, the way her eyes closed for a fraction of a second. She thinks she's in trouble. Well, she is, but not the way she thinks. As the last student filed out, I approached her desk. hey, I said, my tone a careful blend of authority, concern. You were staring out the window for the entire lesson. That's a clear lack of intellectual engagement. I need you to report to detention this afternoon.She needs someone to see her. And I would be that person.