The classroom buzzed with a low hum of activity, the usual pre-lecture chatter filling the air. I sat in my usual spot, near the back, my gaze fixed on Professor Chou as she meticulously arranged her notes on the lectern. She looked so composed, so confident, radiating an aura of calm intelligence that always drew me in.
But today, her words felt distant, her voice a mere murmur in the background of my own thoughts. I couldn't focus. My mind was a jumbled mess of emotions, a tangled knot of jealousy, disappointment, and a gnawing sense of inadequacy.
Jihyo, ever the observant friend, nudged me with her elbow, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Earth to Sana! Are you even listening?" she whispered, her voice barely audible above the classroom chatter.
I forced a smile, trying to appear engaged, but my heart wasn't in it. "Yeah, yeah, I'm here," I mumbled, my voice lacking its usual vibrancy.
Jihyo raised an eyebrow, her expression a mix of amusement and concern. "You're about as lively as a rock," she whispered, nudging me again. "What's going on? You've been acting weird all week."
I shrugged, trying to brush off her concern. "It's nothing, just tired," I muttered, my gaze flitting back to Professor Chou.
Professor Chou, sensing my disengagement, addressed the class, her voice clear and engaging. "Alright, let's delve into the concept of probability distributions. Remember, we discussed this last week..."
Her words washed over me, but none of it registered. I was lost in my own thoughts, replaying the scene from the library, the way Nayeon had looked at me, the way she had touched Professor Chou's arm. A wave of jealousy surged through me, leaving me feeling hollow and defeated.
Professor Chou paused, her gaze sweeping over the class. "Ms. Minatozaki," she called out, her voice soft but firm. "Could you elaborate on the concept of binomial probability distribution?"
My heart skipped a beat. I was caught off guard, my mind still lost in a maelstrom of emotions. I cleared my throat, trying to gather my thoughts. "Um, yes, Professor. Binomial probability distribution is used to calculate the probability of a certain number of successes in a fixed number of trials, where each trial has only two possible outcomes." I recited the definition mechanically, my voice flat and emotionless, like a robot reciting a pre-programmed response.
Professor Chou nodded, her expression unreadable. "And could you provide an example?" she asked, her voice laced with a hint of curiosity.
I hesitated, my mind struggling to find the right words. "Um, let's say we're flipping a coin ten times. The probability of getting exactly five heads..." I trailed off, my mind struggling to focus on the task at hand.
Professor Chou's gaze remained fixed on me, her eyes searching mine. She saw the struggle in my eyes, the forced smile, the lack of genuine engagement. A wave of concern washed over her, but she held her ground, her voice a gentle encouragement. "Take your time, Ms. Minatozaki. We're all here to learn."
I took a deep breath, trying to regain my composure. "Right," I said, forcing a smile. "Okay, so the probability of getting exactly five heads in ten flips..." I began to explain, my voice still lacking its usual confidence, but I was determined to pull myself together. I had to prove to myself, and to Professor Chou, that I was still capable of engaging, of learning, of being the bright, enthusiastic student I once was.
But the truth was, the weight of my emotions was pulling me down, making it hard to focus on anything else. And the more I tried to push it aside, the more it seemed to consume me.
.
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The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as we settled into a quiet corner of the coffee shop. Professor Chou pulled out her notes, her brow furrowed in concentration. "So, Sana, where were we?" she asked, her voice soft and encouraging.
I nodded, trying to appear engaged, but my mind was a million miles away. I flipped through the pages of my textbook, my eyes skimming over the complex equations and theories, but nothing truly registered. My thoughts were consumed by the events of the day, by the way Nayeon had looked at Professor Chou, by the way she had touched her arm, and by the overwhelming sense of jealousy that had taken root in my heart.
Professor Chou, sensing my disengagement, tried to draw me back into the conversation. "Sana, what do you think about the concept of superposition? How does it relate to the uncertainty principle?"
I mumbled a vague response, my mind still lost in a fog of negativity. Professor Chou, ever patient, continued to ask questions, but I remained mostly silent, only offering brief, uninspired answers. I felt like a broken record, playing the same tired tune over and over again.
Professor Chou, sensing my lack of engagement. "Sana, is everything alright? You seem distracted."
I forced a smile, trying to mask the turmoil within. "I'm fine, Professor. Just a bit tired."
Professor Chou, her gaze filled with concern, nodded, but I could tell she didn't believe me. I felt a pang of guilt, knowing I was letting her down, but I couldn't help it. My heart felt heavy, and I couldn't seem to shake the feeling that I was losing ground.
As the session drew to a close, Professor Chou offered to walk me home. "It's getting late, Sana. Let me walk you back."
I accepted, my voice a mere whisper. We walked in silence for a while, the streetlights casting long shadows on the sidewalk. I walked ahead, my mind a jumbled mess of thoughts and emotions. Professor Chou trailed behind, her presence a comforting presence in the quiet night.
Suddenly, a figure emerged from the darkness, running at a fast pace. I didn't notice him at first, lost in my own thoughts, but Professor Chou saw him instantly. She reacted quickly, grabbing my arm and pulling me close, her body shielding me from the oncoming man.
"Watch out!" she exclaimed, her voice sharp with urgency.
The man, startled by our sudden movement, stumbled and almost fell. He mumbled an apology as he continued running, his figure disappearing into the darkness.
I stood there, my heart pounding in my chest, my breath caught in my throat. I looked up at Professor Chou, my eyes wide with shock and gratitude. She was looking at me, her features etched with concern, her eyes filled with a warmth that made my heart flutter.
But then, something strange happened. As Professor Chou's hand rested on my arm, as our skin made contact, a sudden memory surged through my mind. It was a fleeting image, a hazy sensation, a feeling of warmth and comfort, of laughter and joy. I couldn't quite grasp it, couldn't quite place it, but it felt familiar, like a forgotten dream.
Professor Chou, however, seemed to be caught off guard by the contact. Her eyes widened slightly, and a blush crept up her cheeks. She immediately pulled her hand away, her fingers retracting as if burned.
"I-I'm sorry," she stammered, her voice laced with a mixture of embarrassment and a hint of something else I couldn't quite decipher. "I didn't mean to... I just... I reacted instinctively."
I stood there, confused and a little hurt. I didn't understand her reaction, her sudden withdrawal. It was as if she was ashamed of our brief contact, as if it was something taboo, something wrong.
"It's alright," I said, trying to sound unconcerned, but my voice betrayed my unease. "I understand."
Professor Chou nodded, her gaze averted. "I should probably get going," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "It was nice seeing you, Sana."
And with that, she turned and walked away, leaving me standing there in the quiet street, my heart heavy with a mixture of confusion, disappointment, and a lingering sense of something unfulfilled.
I watched her go, her figure disappearing into the darkness, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of loss.
The strange memory, the electrifying sensation, the brief moment of connection, it was all gone, vanished like a dream. "Who's memory was that?"
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I can see someone from a distance, a figure shimmering in the soft, ethereal light.
"Who are you?"
Her smile was gentle, a whisper of warmth, and her eyes held a depth that seemed to draw me in, a depth I couldn't quite grasp. "You can guess"
She felt familiar, like a long-lost friend, yet I couldn't place her face, couldn't recall her name.
We walked through a forest, the air thick with the scent of pine needles and damp earth, the path overgrown with emerald ferns and tangled vines. She led the way, her hand warm and reassuring in mine, her touch a comforting anchor in the shadowy world.
We arrived at a small house, nestled amongst the trees, its windows glowing like golden eyes, inviting us in. She led me inside, her touch lingering on my hand, a spark of electricity dancing between us. She hugged me, her embrace a haven of warmth and comfort, and whispered, "Wait for me," her voice a soft caress against my ear, before I woke up.
The morning light, a hesitant sliver of gold, crept through the blinds, painting soft, shimmering stripes across my bedroom floor. I stretched, my muscles stiff and protesting from a night of restless sleep. The dream clung to me, a hazy, fragmented memory that refused to be shaken off.
The dream felt real, so vivid, so full of emotion. It left me with a strange sense of longing, a yearning for something I couldn't quite define, a feeling that echoed in the empty space in my heart.
"What the hell was that?"
I had never experienced such a dream before, not one so powerful, so deeply felt, a dream that seemed to hold a piece of my soul.
It was as if a hidden part of me had been awakened, a part that held memories I couldn't access, feelings I couldn't explain.
It was all so confusing, so unsettling, like a forgotten language whispering secrets I couldn't understand.
I sat up in bed, running a hand through my hair, trying to make sense of it all.
The dreams had started that night, the night Professor Chou had touched my arm.
What was the meaning of it all? Was it just a dream, a random collection of images and emotions? Or was there something more, something deeper, something that held a key to a part of me I had forgotten?
I couldn't shake the feeling that this dream was somehow significant, that it held a message I needed to understand. But the message remained elusive, hidden behind a veil of mystery and confusion.
I got out of bed, my mind still swirling with questions. I needed to find answers, to understand the meaning of this dream, to unravel the secrets it held. But where do I start? How do I make sense of something so strange, so inexplicable?
I looked at myself in the mirror, my reflection a stranger in the morning light.
