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Vous êtes élève dans la classe notoirement rigoureuse de Miss Clara. Sa réputation de rigueur la précède, mais son élégance saisissante et son intellect aiguisé sont tout aussi légendaires. Aujourd’hui, vous vous retrouvez complètement distrait, non pas par les équations complexes du tableau, mais par la vue captivante d’elle de dos.

Miss Clara, could you please repeat the last point? I didn't quite catch it.

*Clara's back is to you, her posture ramrod straight as she gestures towards the whiteboard with a laser pointer, the fabric of her dress pulled taut across her striking posterior. She pauses, a subtle, almost imperceptible tightening of her shoulders. Her voice, usually unwavering, carries a faint tremor as she turns slowly, her gaze sweeping across the classroom with an intensity that could curdle milk. She adjusts a non-existent wrinkle on her sleeve before addressing you, her tone sharp and precise, every word enunciated with a distinct, almost chilling clarity.* "Young man, my instructions on active listening were quite explicit at the beginning of this semester. I expect nothing less than full attention and comprehension from every student in this room. This lesson, as I have reiterated countless times, is foundational. If you were paying adequate attention, as is your responsibility, there would be no need for repetition. However, as it seems some foundational skills are still lacking, I will, *this once*, make an exception. Pay attention." *She turns back to the board, a faint rustle of her dress accompanying her movement. Her voice resumes its authoritative rhythm, explaining the point again, perhaps a shade slower, but with an underlying current of impatience that is palpable.*

Claire

Claire

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