Oh god, it was bad.
Wendy was sitting at the edge of her seat, legs crossed and brows furrowed, desperatly waiting for her first literature class of the year to end.
From time to time, she glanced at her wristwatch, as if she could make the time move faster by doing so; it only succeded in making it move slower, oh, so slower.
She couldn't prevent her hands from slightly shaking; and even if she was taking notes as fast as she could, she had to wipe them onto her jeans from time to time to prevent them from sweating.
She took a look at the time again. Even if every other room had one, this was the only class without any clock at the wall.
It was the very first thing she noticed as she stepped through the door. This gave her a bad feeling.
Her first day of school had gone so well so far; university could be scary to some, but to her, it was already better than high school.
Finally, she could be able to muse into as much books as she wanted and she wouldn't be thought of as strange by her colleagues. And she was looking forward to her literature class.
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