The Day Started With...
The day started with a multitude of chattering voices. The voices clanged around the room, bouncing off ancient models of the brain, squeaking through stacks of papers, cracking against glass window panes. Aydar rubbed the bridge of his nose where his glasses seemed to be pressing into his head and rapped his knuckles on the table. The students turned towards the sharp noise and fell silent. Aydar continued his lesson in the silence; however, an occasional glance around the room told him enough. Chins sinking into the palms of their hands, eyes glazed over, the occasional nod. No one actually cared about the functions of the frontal lobe, they were far too preoccupied by Mr. Evans’ death. Aydar was used to a little disinterest, after all, psychology wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but today’s absolute lack of focus struck a nerve. He felt a the pang of loneliness that he had been ignoring for far too long. It was completely illogical to be jealous of a dead man, yet the idea of eve...