The plan was to finish my initial draft of this paper while I finished my lunch. I had woken earlier than my usual Tuesdays, so I thought it was best to make the most of it.
I hid in a corner of the dining hall. The plan was set-in-stone and even King Arthur would not be able to release me from my duty.
A man was sitting behind me—lapse of manners and aged in appearance. Had he had a beard, he could have been Merlin. I felt him staring at the back of my head. I managed to turn without much notice to find him staring at my screen—at the words I was writing.
Insecurity overwhelmed me, and I did not know what to do. Who was this man? Was he genuinely curious in my paper? Did he know something I did not?
Before I could even conjure the bravery to ask, he stood up, mumbled something about the advertisement sitting just behind my laptop for the late-night breakfast the dining hall would be hosting Wednesday, and walked away.
I had let my imagination run away with me again, and managed to avoid writing more of my paper.
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