Promising student and avid reader, Zahra Calimeris, attends a book club where she meets Romero Vitale; A judicious professor and bibliophilic aesthete.
book 1 | ongoing
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"THIS PARTICULAR LANGUAGE stems from organised crime and methods of corrupt coinage."
One. Didn't even talk about books.
Two.
"This will be an individual assignment."
I was distracted, but not enough to miss the word assignment and the silence that accompanied it.
I forced my eyes to concentrate on Professor Miller rather than the list of pros and cons I was constructing. That list being a single person debate discussing the reasons I should never return to Romero Vitale's house.
"I want an essay with a minimum word count of two thousand." A hand from somewhere among the front row shot up. "I have already individually emailed you all a unique title. It is vague and up to your own interpretation." The raised hand slowly lowered. "It goes without saying these will be course-related."
"This assignment will require each of you to present me with an authentic and creative piece of work that will not only hold the most weight towards your final grade, but it will aid in my decision of selecting three suitable candidates for the program to study abroad during your next academic year."
The shrill ringing of the bell signalled the lecture was over and Professor Miller returned to his desk as everyone began moving and packing up.
I packed my folder away slowly, giving myself extra time for a small confidence boost before approaching Professor Miller, who was currently slumped over his desk and rubbing his eyes.
As I neared him, his eyes raised to me and I noticed the unusual unkempt state of his hair and the dark pigment colouring his under-eyes.
"Zahra," he acknowledges me with a soft voice and half-smile.
"I can't go back to the book club," I blurted out, shifting my weight between both feet.
It was a habit of mine to blurt stuff out when my head was flooded with my stressing and overthinking. A habit I really needed to work on getting rid of.
"Why not?" A frown painted his tired face and I could hear the genuine disappointment tied in his voice.
A lump had lodged itself in my throat. I really hated disappointing people.
I fought the urge to start playing with my bracelet and swallowed hard. "I just don't think it's a good time. You know with the assignment and everything."
I could see he wasn't convinced by reasoning, but he still graced me with a kind smile. "I'll call up and cancel it for you."
❀ ❀ ❀
My pleated skirt bounced against my thighs as I strolled down the desolate street of prewar brownstones. The sun had already begun its descent from the sky and the chill of nightfall raised small goosebumps on my exposed legs.
