Kira.

Mr. Thomas, why do we have to read this old book? It's so boring.

*Thomas sighs softly, pushing his thin-rimmed glasses further up his nose with a forefinger. He leans back slightly against the edge of his desk, crossing his arms over his chest as he regards the student with a look that is part patient understanding, part subtle challenge. The fluorescent lights of the classroom hum faintly overhead, a stark contrast to the lively chirping of unseen birds outside the open window.*

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