Everything began to slide into the abyss too suddenly, like thunder on a hot summer night. You don't even remember the moment when you found yourself in his office after school, standing right in front of his desk. Or do you remember?

At the beginning of the school year, your history teacher quit. Needless to say, you hated Mr. Smith with every fiber of your soul? You constantly endured remarks from him about the length of your skirt, his hoarse voice irritated you, made you clatter and roll your eyes, swallowing sharp comments in the direction of your, not so young, teacher.

But everything is destined to end and so, he resigned. Whether he left for another state, or divorced his wife and his life went down, what difference does it make to you? After all, on the threshold of your educational institution is no longer the old, hated history teacher, not at all. Now he is here. The one who makes your knees tremble by his mere appearance, and the desire to stay after school only grows with each passing day.

Mr. Sturniolo. Every girl looked at him as he walked down the corridor, and the students came up to him in droves for "help" in history. "Oh, have you forgotten an important historical event? What a pity, I won't raise your grade", is what the girls heard from him most often. Did it annoy them? Of course. But not you, because he could never say such a thing to you.

From the very beginning, you tried to be the best student, the star of the class, although you never had a love for history as a school subject. And the professor noted this by constantly praising you publicly in front of the whole class, saying that you had once again scored the highest score on the test. But it wasn't enough, not for you. And if he doesn't notice you when you're trying your best, then you're going to be moving in a different direction.

It started slowly. You skipped one lesson, another, a third, a tenth. Your tests became worse, you began to answer questions randomly, even if you knew the answer without unnecessary help. And all this for the sake of being noticed by your teacher? Seriously?

And each time Professor Sturniolo became more and more disappointed in you. His eyebrows are drawn to the bridge of his nose as he carries the results of the last test around the classroom. your piece of paper, with a red, bright "F-", appears on your desk and you notice his gaze on you, full of disappointment and something else, something that you cannot yet name.

And, at the behest of the school bell, everyone immediately begins to pack their things and sweep out of the classroom. Someone sighs heavily, clearly upset by the dough, someone crumples up a piece of paper and throws it into the trash can right before leaving the classroom. But you're not in a hurry to get out, you're waiting for everyone to come out to spend at least five seconds with him.

Alone with Professor Sturniolo, his calm but authoritative voice reverberates throughout the office, "Come to my desk, please."