Cellulose and tobacco embellished the atmosphere and Cameron's mood, but the noise her low heeled leather boots made surely caused disarray.
"Heya, good to see you back at work here Germain." a low chuckle ripples through Johnson.
"Busy week?"
"Pardon? Oh- yes, most of my time was spent at meetings this past week, I promise I did not forget about you," amusement accompanied Cameron's voice.
"What meetings?" The elder man questioned.
" Well, Harvard, Yale, Columbia, the works. I'm trying my best to retain as many perspectives from academics as possible, but unfortunately I just seem to be stuck."
" I wouldn't worry about it Pach, you're only a younglin right now. Science fair projects will be plentiful in your ninety-plus years of continued living."
Diverted, Cameron retorted; " Are you assuming I'm going to live over the age of 100?"
" Well with all that runnin, I bet you'll be as old as a tortoise" the mature librarian deeply chortled at his verbal antics, responded with the roll of a pair of eyes.
"I didn't take you for a girl to skip class." Cameron swiftly hopped at the sensation of someone grabbing her bicep.
"Armanda?"
" It's 10:45? I suppose you didn't check your oh-so-beloved Vacheron."
With a quick glance at her wrist, Cameron's heels were clicking at a much rapid pace.
" You really are obsessed with that project aren't you?"
" Where is the class? The room number? Anything? Could you at least be somehow helpful instead of ridiculing me?"
"Well damn, ma'am. I apologize for my disorderly conduct. The room number shall be 38A." a commotion of laughter filling the vinyl aired atmosphere from Armanda's British accent imitation of the latter sentences.
" You know, you could at least congratulate me on my attempts of a Cambridge accent instead of rolling your eyes like a petty bitch."
The clicking speeding up, a new sound finally befriended the space, the metal door handle of Economics clicking to open.
By the thirty- minute mark, Cameron has compromised seven pages of her Staples fluorescent red notebook, scribbled in miniature handwriting synonymous to doctor-script.
The lecture endured an interruption.
" Tim, would you know where the textbooks are arriving?"
Cameron looked up to glance across the lecture hall to the intruder of the academic process. A woman, with what she first noted, perfectly shaped, most likely recently-waxed eyebrows.
For the first time, she was tuning out her professor's words to examine the situation below her. For unexplainable reasons, she felt captivated, and slightly uncomfortable due to the new presence of the hall.
But while digesting her thoughts, the perfect-eyebrow-lady was gone.
...
