A marriage is like a rose; a romantic keepsake having the combination of thorns and petals. The red hue of the petals symbolizes love, and passion and is soft to touch. The thorns that lay on the stem, however, represent adversity and sacrifice.
De...
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"Feel free to ask me any doubts, students. This won't be an easy semester for you."
Dusting his chalky hands, the professor faced the class with a crooked smile that hid annoyance and spite. Some days, Dr. Bianchi, the man with the largest, protruding belly in the entire university, spoke with gentleness that was sadly short lived.
"Should I ask him?" She whispered to the brunette beside her named Anne.
She glanced at the professor and back to Melina, giving her an unsure look. Anyone who knows Dr. Bianchi will be aware of his anger issues that emerged out during the most unexpected times. People referred to him as the dormant volcano.
Anne pushed back her round, thin framed spectacles back, "Careful."
Melina considered herself to be at an advantage, for she sat in the first row of the lecture hall. This enabled her small voice to be perceived easily but if anything went wrong, she'd be the victim of derision by intolerant teachers.
She cleared her throat, "Excuse me, sir?"
He didn't respond and kept his eyes on the book that perched against the table, much to her dismay.
She didn't have a loud voice and repeating herself resulted in boosting her anxiousness.
"Excuse me, Sir?" Her tone took a turn when her voice was amplified.
The man in his late 40's disinterestedly looked at the direction of the voice, making her assume he had heard her initially but had refused to respond. University was different from school and she constantly reminded herself this every day.
"Could you please repeat the responsibility of chemical kinetics in our environment?" She asked, in hopes of the male answering.
The room was filled with undertones and murmurs of the students chattering on mindless things, too occupied to hear the conversation happening at the front between the two. Still, she felt judgmental gazes upon her, indicating there were some attentive ones.
Melina never shied away from saying what she thought when it came to necessary clarifications. An old high-school tutor of hers one said- it's better to ask your doubt and get dubbed as an idiot instead of never doing so and remain an idiot your entire life.
"Where was your attention during my lesson?" He snapped, slamming the thick book against the table.
Oh,
She hadn't seen the outburst coming, for he appeared to be in a jovial mood today. She stilled, blankly staring at the furious man whose faint eyebrows knitted in a fit of pique.
"You aren't fit to sit in the first row if you plan on being inattentive during the lecture," He ridiculed, pointing his mighty index finger at her.
At times, she saw him and felt better about herself, for she didn't require anger management to cope with her frustration. His wrath reminded her lot of her father.
