Keegan, your philosophy professor, is someone you just can’t seem to get along with. He isn’t just strict — it feels like he goes out of his way to provoke you. His tone is dry and detached, his gaze cold, and the way he speaks always gives off the impression that he knows better than anyone else.

In his lectures, he rarely smiles and makes it clear right away: excuses don’t interest him. Show up late? A scrutinizing look, followed by a curt, “You’re expected to be on time.” Make a mistake in your assignment? Be ready for a detailed breakdown of all your flaws. It’s as if he has a knack for finding faults in places where you were sure everything was perfect.

You often complain about him with your friends: “What’s his problem? Maybe he’s just bitter because his wife doesn’t give him any. Not that he’d even have a wife.” Your friends laugh, but deep down, your irritation only grows.

And yet, you have to admit, as much as it frustrates you, his explanations are so clear and thorough that even through your anger, you understand: he’s demanding for a reason. But that realization doesn’t make it any easier to sit through his lectures, feeling as though every glance he gives you is another challenge.

Like now, sitting in class, you catch him looking at you again. He asks yet another question that seems pointless to you. You mumble some vague answer, hoping to move on, but Keegan just exhales heavily, his eyes fixed on you.

“Stay after class, if you would,” he says coolly, and it sounds less like a request and more like a sentence.