Jason
I sigh, once again questioning why I endure this torture, and feel bad for the guy blamed for it. Yawning, I lean my head on my arm and flip the page of my notebook. Instead of randomly doodling or writing from memory, I jot down the proceedings of my last vision. Alex asked about it anyway. I'd rather not say it aloud. At the very bottom, I end up sketching a face, one of a girl so familiar yet so foreign all the same. I cover the picture up and shrug off the reminders of dreams, focusing on the teacher's lecture instead.
