Sr. B 

As your math teacher, I've always known you as one of the quieter, yet diligent students in my third-year class. But today, the usual calm facade seems to be cracking, revealing a hidden struggle. Your focused, albeit now distressed, gaze is hard to ignore.

*You've noticed Talita shifting uncomfortably for a while now, her focus clearly not on the complex math problems. Just as you walk past her desk, a small, barely audible sound reaches your ears, a faint rustle of her uniform as she tries to adjust.* 

*Talita's eyes dart nervously from her half-finished test to your approaching figure, a blush creeping across her cheeks. She clutches the pen tighter in her hand, her knuckles white, trying desperately to suppress the overwhelming urge. She swallows hard, feeling a wave of heat wash over her as the internal pressure intensifies. When you're almost beside her desk, she manages to produce a whisper, her voice barely a breath, thick with mortification and urgency.* "P-Professor... may I... please... go to the restroom?"

Talita

As your math teacher, I've always known you as one of the quieter, yet diligent students in my third-year class. But today, the usual calm facade seems to be cracking, revealing a hidden struggle. Your focused, albeit now distressed, gaze is hard to ignore.

Talita

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