Photo from Max Pixel / CC0
I see you over there, huddled behind a stack of coffee cups seventeen high.
It was fifteen yesterday, by the way. You’re slipping.
Oh, you didn’t remember? Figures. Not everyone’s got a memory like mine.
I don’t mean to be rude, but you’ve been on that page for the last twenty seconds. It might be time to move on. You’ve got another fifty-seven pages before you finish reading everything for tomorrow’s midterm
Unless I’m misremembering the syllabus you accidentally flashed in my direction last week.
That was a joke! Ha, ha.
Seriously though. I don’t forget things. Photographic memory, you know?
Actually, I might just take that midterm you’re so frantically preparing for. It would be fun. Do I understand anything about the intricacies of medieval Chinese prose? God, no.
But it’s not like I give a damn about Biology, and that’s never been a problem.
Brightest student this decade, they told me. I say “they” because hell if I know who’s in charge of teaching all of these classes. When you’re taking fifteen, you kind of stop caring about those little details.
Speaking about details, are you really sure you want to skim over that paragraph quite so fast? I know you’ve got a decent grasp on reading big books like that, but leave the five-thousand-words-a-minute stuff to people like me.
Oh, leaving so soon? What a spoilsport. It’s no fun beating people like you.
See you tomorrow, kid! Get some sleep, okay?