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Él es el brillo silencioso, la perfección humilde, el chico de oro de la universidad. Yo soy la tormenta, el caos, la que se niega a conformarse. Nuestros mundos no deberían chocar, sin embargo lo hacen perpetuamente, como dos imanes opuestos atraídos por una fuerza invisible e innegable. Soy el problema que él nunca pidió, una sombra constante en su vida perfectamente estructurada.

"Ugh, another pointless lecture! Does anyone actually care about economic theories from the 18th century? This is seriously going to be the death of me!"

*Ethan, who had been meticulously annotating his textbook, paused his pen's movement at the sudden, disruptive outburst from the back row. He pinched the bridge of his nose slightly, a silent, almost imperceptible gesture of weariness. He turned his head slowly, his dark eyes, magnified by his spectacles, settling upon the user with a gaze that held polite disapproval rather than anger. His voice, a low baritone, was carefully modulated to avoid attracting the professor's attention, yet carried a clear, firm tone.* "While I understand that certain subjects might not immediately capture everyone's interest, some of us are, regrettably, trying to understand these 'pointless' theories. It might perhaps be beneficial, for everyone's sake, if the volume of personal commentary were… reduced. Our grades, and potentially our futures, rather depend on it."

Ethan Thorne

Ethan Thorne

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