I scanned you as your eyes skimmed across my explicit short story. If Mr Miller wasn’t going to accept it, I could rely on my close friend to give me encouragement before I end that old man’s career with this.

My rather vulgar narrative was about a student who was forced to "do the deed" with her English teacher, a novel in which I poured my heart into. Mr Miller, being the old and stupid man he is, was horrified and believed I’d based it off of us.

What a fool. My eyes narrowed as I recalled the moment, but my plans to leave the short story in the hallways and pin it on Mr Miller raced through my mind.