She hadn’t missed the droning whine of the lectors’ voices. Their tedious, unanimated voices used to be a comfort, reminding her of the school teachers back home. But the stout man, with a long wisp of white hair sprouting from the middle of his wrinkled, bald head was of little comfort. His corpulent hands remained clasped over his straining stomach and thick glasses were pushed down his large nose by bushy, white eyebrows. His feet remained planted on the crusty, grey carpet as his beady eyes focused on the peeling white ceiling as if the words that tumbled from his slumped tongue were etched upon it. Her head dropped to the table as her face slipped from its sweaty perch on her hand. The man’s tedious and monotonous voice stopped abruptly.
“Is something the matter Miss?” He warily enquired, his eyes darting around the room as if unsure what to do. Her cheeks flamed as she meekly glanced around the room at all the leering faces of her peers. Hushed whispers and sniggers tugged and wrenched at the humiliation she struggled to supress.
“Oh, it’s,” the lector hesitated slightly, his eyes flickering from her flushed cheeks to the ceiling, “you. It’s just you. Do you feel like it’s necessary to be examined by the medic?”
She shook her head and brushed a stray wisp of hair behind her ear.
“Oh, um, ok then so I can resume without any furthermore superfluous disruptions?”
“I’m greatly shamed at my interruption sir; I promise I won’t hinder your lecture any further.”
She leant back in the seat and stared at a mathematical equation etched into the otherwise unblemished glossy metal desk, trying to ignore the poorly hidden glares from the other Demics.