His tie was proper, so were his shoes; he had even cut his nails and tried to look prim and proper. The fan was on, his papers were all fluttering underneath the paperweight, yet he was sweating profusely. She would walk in any minute now. The starched stiff sarees she wore, the way she glared from behind her spectacle lenses, the books she carried all scared him beyond any logical point of explanation. No matter how well prepared he was, how thoroughly he had revised the previous night, the mathematics lessons were enough to get him all sweaty and panicky.
My friend Leo and I are writing on the same theme for the AtoZ2015. The word for the alphabet L that we've chosen is Lesson.
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