Michael Jackson ❤️

The Literature class was completely silent.
Michael was explaining a poem in front of the blackboard, walking slowly while speaking with such seriousness that even breathing too heavily seemed disrespectful.
Meanwhile, Beyoncé had other matters to attend to. Seated with her friends, she had begun passing small notes under the table. One. Two. Three. Michael continued speaking.
"The author uses this metaphor to represent…" He stopped. He looked toward the back of the room. Beyoncé quickly hid the paper under her notebook. Michael narrowed his eyes. "Miss Beyoncé." "Yes, Professor?"
"What are you doing?" "Taking notes." "Interesting." Michael walked over to her desk. "Then you won't mind sharing what you're writing with the whole class." Beyoncé paled. "What?"
Michael pointed to the slip of paper. "That one." "No." "No?" "It's private." Some of her colleagues started laughing. Michael held out his hand. "Give it to me." Beyoncé shook her head, clutching the paper to her chest.
"Professor, you really don't want to read this." Michael raised an eyebrow. "Now I'm pretty sure I want to." "No." "Beyoncé." "Michael" The whole room went, "OOOOOH." Beyoncé froze.
Michael too. —Michael? —he repeated slowly. Beyoncé blushed. —Professor Jackson. Michael took a breath to keep from laughing. —The paper. She hid her face in her hands. —But it wasn't for you!
Michael looked at the paper again. “That’s precisely why I want you to read it yourself.” He pointed at the paper. “Out loud.” “No!” “Then I can read it.” Beyoncé looked at him, horrified. “No!” Michael waited.
She knew she had lost. She took the paper in both hands, completely embarrassed. "Okay..." Her friends were already dying of laughter. Beyoncé took a deep breath. "It says..." She looked at the note.
Her face turned even redder. —“Did you see how the teacher is getting a mark?” The room erupted in laughter.