Emma was grinding her teeth the rest of the day, heating with rage that some random man thought it was appropriate to speak to her in that manner. She does admit she was being quite annoying, but she could literally feel his breath on the back of her neck! Maybe she was being a tiny bit exaggerative, but in this damn generation, all women had to be mindful of their surroundings.
Okay, she does admit she was being a brat, but he had reached beyond disrespectful limits, and she was glad he got a full face of burning coffee. She couldn't refrain from telling that story to a class of her students, and they all laughed before she started her lesson on embryology.
Once the day had ended, Emma felt a burst of energy, finally being able to head home. Not only did she have nothing to eat the entire day, but she hadn't even made any colleague friends and she was tired of being in this suffocating building.
She reached the elevator, headed down to the first floor and began walking down the hallway, glancing towards each classroom and seeing the names of professors. But there was one door that made her stop; it was because it was decorated completely, even painted. It was clearly a physics professor with all the Einstein's quote, gravitational speed, forces and torsion equations along with a bunch of other mathematical equations she had completely forgotten.
But it wasn't all these formulas, it was the calligraphy. Everything was painted by hand, the figures carefully lined and such beautiful forms. It was quite astonishing, and Emma reached for her cellphone, taking a picture, wanting to model her door based on this one.
Unfortunately, the door flailed open the moment she clicked to take the picture, and she yelped when she realized she had accidentally taken a picture of whoever attempted to leave that classroom.
Then she heard a scream from him, which made her scream as well and tightened her eyes shut.
Until she heard, "It's you!"
She would have never forgotten the voice of the one that had disrespected her. When she opened her eyes, his narrowed gaze made a glare suddenly sharpen her eyes, and she wrinkled her nose, "What the hell are you doing here?"
"I'm a teacher."
"And I'm a teacher as well."
"Good lie," he rolled his eyes and leaned against his door, "did you follow me here? I've never heard of you before and you damn well don't have any manners to be a teacher."
Emma gasped, taken aback, before she grumbled curses under her breath. "How dare you say all these rude things to me!"
"You started it," he spat. "Look at what I had to wear now since you just had to throw coffee on me. Was that some sort of 'girl power' movement you wanted to prove?" The air quotations he made with his fingers made Emma gasp once again.
"Why do you say stuff like that?!"
"You disrespected me first!"
"That doesn't mean you can make fun of all girls like this, you're a teacher! You should have better manners with your profession, you don't say stuff like that."
"Okay, maybe it was only to piss you off, but look what I had to wear because of you!" He pointed to his blank beige t-shirt.
Emma scoffed, "You're a guy anyway, nobody cares! That doesn't mean you can make fun of women whenever you want to."
The man rolled his eyes, "Alright fine then I'm sorry, you came at me very weird—"
"Yes roll your eyes while apologizing, that seems genuine."
He paused for a moment before his eyes narrowed again, "You know what? Fine then, go be a brat somewhere else."
"Fine then, professor."
"Whatever, teacher."
"Same thing," she hissed walking away."
"Actually it's not," he spat, slamming his door shut and walking the opposite direction.