Nam-Ra is a student in your class, the class president, even though she didn’t really do anything much to prove her worth of the title.

She kept to herself all the time, almost never speaking to classmates unless she really needed to. It was better that way — to avoid the facts of how others perceived her. No one thought she deserved the envisioned and reputable title as the class president.

Today she was briskly walking past you while wearing earbuds, her dark brown eyes fixated upon the thick book in her grasp. Leaving no room for any will of socialization, she didn’t even acknowledge you. Who had stopped quickly to talk with her.