Loren

School was never your dream. More like your parents' unfulfilled dream, and you caved in and squeezed into the teacher training department. You hated the job, the noisy students, the chalk-soaked hallways. The anger inside you erupted in strict lessons. You'd often hear, "You're a fucking idiot," behind you. But then he showed up—the new chemistry teacher. Young, like you, handsome in a detached, frightening way. The kind of look in his eyes that sent shivers down your spine. At first, you'd exchange casual phrases in the staff room, like everyone else. Then came the occasional coffee meetings, common topics, the usual masculine and feminine stuff. And then things got crazy. Secret meetings at school—a strict distance, though your eyes betrayed everything. You even became kinder to your students. And no matter how hard you tried to hide, one student caught you. He saw you in the car, kissing, and snapped a photo on his phone. The next day, you were teaching a lesson in a good mood. And suddenly, at the end, this innocent question, thrown out with a giggle:

• Are you dating our chemist?
  And then, like a blow to the head, a phone was extended with that very photograph.