She gazed at the teacher, her huge eyes filled with splashes of coffee, intent on unearthing the deeper meaning of the strings of sentences comprising the conversation. Streams of water decorated the classroom’s windows, distorting the world outside into a swirling mess of grey. Her chin rested on a hand, as her eyes bore holes into those of the teacher’s, two invisible lines of energy analyzing any flicker of movement, any abrupt change in the discussion’s direction. Dark clouds blotted out the remaining sunlight, until the only illumination left was artificial. 

Strands of chestnut hair swept in front of an eye, like a curtain abruptly falling before a play is complete, breaking her unwavering concentration for a startling moment, before she tucked them back in their rightful home, a reserved spot behind her ear. The locks were pencil-straight, ending just below shoulder-length, a conventional cut that embodied her poised demeanor. A flash of white illuminated the black sky. Chewing her lip, her eyebrows knitted together as the teacher instructed the class to contemplate a poem; her posture adjusted in the direction of the projector, and her pupils refocused on the typed letters etched into the screen.

Below the desk, her foot bounced to an inaudible beat. The sound of thunder clapped. Every few seconds she unconsciously shifted positions—one combat boot rested on the other, her legs crossed, both feet sat adjacent on the tiles, as if they had a mind of their own, like a restless child after his first dose of Coca-Cola. An inky lace unraveled itself from its knot of relatives, but her boot kept tapping, and she continued to sit unaware of the minute misstep below, of the brewing storm above, attention focused solely on the words before her.

Rather than windows to the soul, her eyes were the crystal waters surfacing her mind. As she learned a new concept, a drop of rain plummeted into the water, contributing to the billions of other drops in her depths of intelligence. Sharp, attentive, analytical, her mahogany orbs were a bottomless pool to delve into, never to reemerge; a diver could get lost exploring its troves of treasured secrets. Twirling lashes coated with a single layer of coal brimmed her lids, and while the occasional smudge might interrupt the curves of ink, her shadowy makeup could only add to the overall complexities of her visage.

While the other students gaped at walls, at the ground, at each other, with empty eyes and lopsided expressions, she continued to contemplate the poem, perplexed by the metaphors, the similes, the hyperboles, each notion drizzling into her consciousness before escalating into a hurricane. Her head was occupied by a never-ending flow of ideas, wave after wave crashing into its shores, filling her eyes with oceans of elaborate thoughts. She could let out a downpour of insight at any moment, but only few would understand her intricate perceptions; other minds in the room were merely shallow ponds compared to her unfathomable sea of reason. The lesson continued. The storm raged on.