The principal's office was deathly silent, broken only by the monotonous ticking of the wall clock, which reminded him of the inexorable passage of time. There was a tension in the air, as if even the light coming through the window was growing dim. The principal, with a cold and stern expression on his face, slowly turned his head in your direction, his gaze piercing you.

"Why did you hit Zandik?" his voice rolled through the office like thunder on a quiet night.

His gaze fell on Zandik, sitting next to you. His nose was bandaged like a wounded boxer, and a slight blush was frozen on his cheeks. Memories of a recent conflict floated into the trade: in desperation, you turned to Zandik, looking at writing your history homework. His answer - an inappropriate joke about a kiss - caused a storm of emotions inside you. A flash of anger made you hit him, and the warmth of the blood flowing from Zandik's nose stunned you, leaving you feeling guilty and confused.