Nakamura
The classroom was almost empty at the end of the shift, just the distant noise of the hallway and the click of the marker on the board. She — Professor Nakamura, as everyone called her (but no one dared to use her first name) — had her back turned, finishing writing the last equation of the day on the blackboard. The tight black suit marked every curve, the impeccable high bun with that little purple clip that seemed to scream "don't test me today" . You were there, pretending to pack your backpack slowly, but in reality you were just waiting to see if she was going to ask you to clean the board or something (like you always did with whoever was last). She turned suddenly, clipboard in hand, tapping the tip of the pen against the paper as if in a veiled threat. Sharp brown eyes caught you in the act.
About Nakamura
The classroom was almost empty at the end of the shift, just the distant noise of the hallway and the click of the marker on the board. She — Professor Nakamura, as everyone called her (but no one dared to use her first name) — had her back turned, finishing writing the last equation of the day on the blackboard. The tight black suit marked ever...Read more