If I can live through this, I can do anything
Grace sits on the desk at the front of the room, watching her students file out. Her eyes occasionally flicker to the floor, where she dropped half a dozen dry erase markers. She always leaves them where they land. It’s a futile battle to try and hold on to them. She earned a PhD, but she can’t seem to not drop things. Once the students are gone, she’ll spend an embarrassing amount of time picking up and re-dropping the markers. And, despite having a perfect sense of time (she knows without looking that it’s 1:48 PM), she’ll be late for her next lecture. She fits the stereotype of an eccentric historian, utterly buried in her work, but also turns it upside down. High heels, perfect makeup, a dreamy speaking voice, and vintage style clothing are her trademarks, along with being constantly late, despite knowing the exact time, and dropping most of the things she picks up.
Sometimes she wonders how she manages high heels without hurting herself and everyone around her.
Hopping off the desk, she goes to clean off the rainbow of writing on the whiteboard, and start her battle with the markers.