𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃

11: 𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙩𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 *

𝗣𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗹𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝗠𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗮𝗵

Upon entering Dr. Landrum's classroom, there were two stacks of papers awaiting our small group. At first glance, I figured it was a new assignment, for those of us who decided to attend the Friday class. Taking them to my desk, I skimmed over each. Finding there was more to my assessment than I was willing to handle.

She was putting a deadline on my forgotten tasks.

The rest of my classmates poured into the classroom within the next five minutes. Crazy how much of a difference, three minutes can make. Marching in with that last group of students was Dr. Landrum. I watched her pick up the leftover stacks. Her next stop was her desk — in the center of our class.

"Happy Friday," she spoke, turning on the projector before assembling her first packet of information. The class responded to her in unison, before she continued.

"I know midterms are quickly approaching and there's enough on the to-do list, as is. However, we have to talk about both forms that were waiting for you all to pick up," She looked at the crowd of students with a smile. "A part of my final exam is a completed application for one of the Journalism Department's partner companies. These opportunities go past Georgia and Florida so, don't feel pressured. On top of that, don't forget your midterm is a five thousand word essay from one of the five topics listed on the first packet,"

The screen switched to the packet that read: "Mid-Term Prep".

Dr. Landrum's course was mandatory for graduation. Her class was the last to test me on my journalism level editing and writing. Plus she was the professor to host my exit exam from the MMA program. Dr. Landrum would test my knowledge on the Associated Press Stylebook before granting me the completion of my degree. So? Passing this course wasn't a debate.

Movement on the screen of my MacBook brought my attention out of the thoughts welcomed by Landrum's speech. Ka'Dafii had texted me back and I should've known something was up from his late reply.

It had been over thirty minutes since I pressed send on the simple question and greeting.

Zay🥹: I gotta go to Columbus while you in class. I'll txt u once I'm back in the city. Most likely imma lose service in the country.

That's not what I wanted to hear as the answer to my 'what you got planned today' text. However, I knew it was no one's fault. My emotional reaction was one of the many side effects to the Plan B pill.

Ka'Dafii stayed with me last night and even with my raging hormones, I was able to keep myself together. I was regretting that already today and it was only 10:06.

Reply: Okay, be safe.  Make sure you eat something.

I typed the message on my Mac instead of pulling out my phone. Making sure to quit the app afterward. It didn't stop the next alert from rising in the top corner of the screen. But I didn't reply anymore. He asked if I was okay and deep down? Yes. Emotionally? I'm a mess, but there's nothing he can do to fix it.

Class went by in a blur. I took notes here and there, whenever I tapped back in.

By the time our ninety minutes were up, I had two pages of nothing written down. Yeah, the information was valuable for sure, but I couldn't tell you want it said. I found myself daydreaming about a recent night spent in Ka'Dafii's living room.

"Hey, Penelope. A word, please?"

Nodding, I stepped down to the Professor's desk. Sensing as the room emptied in seconds.