The professor started to deliver his lecture. He was boring.

Around Dana, other students transcribed his white words. She did not. Reading from the journal that printed his story, the professor held forth on his cursive command. Acolytes continued to record his pronouncements. All but Dana, who sat still, fingers folded on the table. As if fog covered the others, the professor centered his focus on her in a booming voice that he deliberately dropped to whispers. And she still sat still— watched him morph, witnessed his need. Lowering the journal, he asked, “Do I bore you?”

"not at all" she answered "you're funny!"

Her voice was not mocking him, as he expected.