𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒐𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑹𝒊𝒅𝒆

PART-11

Ira stood before a one-tiered building, its plain façade a stark contrast to the whimsical sign creaking gently in the breeze. Tilting her chin slightly, she read the words - Ꝉҽէ վօմɾ ƒìղցҽɾʂ ժąղçҽ.

Her grip tightened around the notebook pressed to her chest as she fidgeted with the pen cap, clicking it open and shut with her free hand.

Exhaling deeply, she finally stepped inside the building.

💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫

The room was bathed in white light. Two rows of five computers stretched before her, eight of them occupied by students in the midst of a lively discussion.

Six boys - some around her age, some older - laughed and joked, their easy camaraderie only sharpening her sense of solitude. To her left, two girls chatted quietly, their heads bent together in conspiratorial whispers, their eyes flicking toward Ira every now and then.

Ira's gaze wandered, searching for a hint of direction, but there was no clear authority figure in sight. Unsure, she drifted toward the only empty chair in the corner. Fixing her eyes on the computer screen, she sat down and traced the keyboard's edges with quiet curiosity.

What's the big deal about typing anyway? Anybody can type.

But as she watched the students' flying fingers, her curiosity got the better of her.

How do they do that without looking at the keyboard?

Her eyes lingered on a boy with curly hair and tanned skin, his focus fixed on the screen as his fingers moved in perfect rhythm.

Would I ever be able to keep up?

"Alright, everyone!"

Her attention snapped back to the present at the sound of a firm voice.

"Pay attention here. Today, we have a new face with us," announced a man in his mid-thirties, making every head turn toward him. His eyes swept across the room-

"Yeah, you-Ms. Ira!" he said with a warm smile, extending a hand.

Ira's eyes widened.

Every head swiveled toward her.

With hesitant movements, she rose from her seat. The chair scraping against the floor made the moment even more awkward. Smoothing her kurti, she walked forward, the room seeming to shrink around her with each step.

The instructor's encouraging smile helped her relax. "Welcome, Ira. We're excited to have you join our little community. Why don't you tell us a bit about yourself?"

Ira blinked, gulping. Her eyes darted toward the floor as she struggled to find her voice. In a trembling tone, she began, "G-Good afternoon, everyone."

Her gaze flickered across the room, carefully avoiding direct eye contact. "My name is Ira Kashyap," she said, pausing to take a shallow breath. "I'm here to... enhance my typing skills and learn a bit more about the system. Thank you."

Her hands clenched into fists, nails digging into her palms as she braced for silence, or worse, ridicule.

Instead, the room filled with gentle murmurs and friendly glances. Faces that moments ago had been strangers now seemed like potential friends.

"Alright, now that we've got introductions out of the way, let's dive into today's lesson," the instructor announced, handing out sheets of paper with typing exercises.

Ira returned to her seat, feeling a little more at ease. She began to type, but her fingers stumbled clumsily across the keys. A flicker of worry crossed her face; she seemed to be the only one struggling.