"God, this is going to be a long day," she thinks, as she shakes the rain from her jacket, throws it over her chair and plops down in front of a PC in the first row. She gets out her pen, opens her book and takes a glance at the class syllabus. "UGH! Dull, dull and duller!" she mutters to herself as she sees the endless list of subjects to be covered by the end of the second day.
One by one, the other students filter in, muttering about the traffic, rain, and difficulty finding the address in the storm. Names are exchanged, along with insincere interest. The conversation stalls.
Ten minutes late, the teacher arrives. She shamefully gives him the once-over. Ok. Not unpleasant. Rather short. Nice shoulders, though. He puts down his briefcase and pulls out his notes. When he glances up finally, their eyes meet. "Shazaam!" she thinks. "Magnetic eyes. This won't be so bad, after all."
The morning flies by. The intensity of the subject keeps her focused mainly on her screen, his voice directing her thoughts and actions. Occasionally, someone asks for assistance and he readily goes to their desk and gently explains the process again. She watches the way he moves as he leans over and points to the various icons on the screens. When he glances up, their eyes lock again. "Damn, I hope he can't tell what I'm thinking," she says to herself.
