Oxxxymiron || Oxy || Fedorov

A typical end to the school day. The bell rang for the last time, like a death sentence. The girl felt a knot in her stomach. The grade wasn't very satisfactory, to say the least.

Miron, the physics teacher, was a man of principle, but with an unexpected sense of humor. The girl put off this visit to Miron Yanovich until the last minute.

She glanced at the sign again: "Miron Fyodorov Yanovich." Just below it was written "Physics Office." Her heart began to beat faster.

Miron sat at his desk, checking on the eighth-graders' lab work. The slightly open window let in a gentle breeze, which fluttered his curls. He was immersed in his work, his brows slightly furrowed, and his glasses had slipped.

There was a soft knock. He looked up. Then a girl's head popped out of the doorway. Her eyes were full of anxiety and hope.

Miron adjusted his glasses and looked at the door. A small smirk appeared on his face.

"What, have you come to improve your grade?" His voice was even, with a slight smile. It was as if he had been waiting for her.

• Oh, you. You can't even listen. Fine.

He looked down at the notebooks, checking them further. The silence continued for a couple more seconds. The girl stood there, unsure what to say, how to start the conversation. He looked at her again.

• Why are you standing there? There's a chair over there. Sit down.