Rumination

The clock struck 12 PM, and a sharp pain twisted in my abdomen. My grip on the pen faltered—it trembled before slipping from my fingers onto the desk. Panic crept in as I pressed my hands against my temples, desperate to steady my racing thoughts. This was the toughest exam I’d ever faced, and it felt like the walls of the classroom were closing in. My mind spiraled with dread: if I failed, I would lose my chance at the specialization I’d worked so hard for. My parents’ disappointment loomed large, and an avalanche of random, anxious thoughts overwhelmed me.

I looked around, seeking an anchor, a distraction—anything to calm the storm within. That’s when I saw her. She sat a few rows ahead, the girl who had once been everything to me. A year ago, we were inseparable. Now, we were strangers, bound only by shared memories that resurfaced without warning. I felt myself being pulled into the whirlpool of those moments—the laughter, the arguments, the connection we once shared.

But I shook my head, forcing myself back to reality. Focus on the exam, I thought, though my efforts felt futile. Only 30 minutes remained. No, 29. My mind was blank, the concepts slipping through my fingers like sand. I stared at the question paper, hoping something—anything—would resurface from the depths of my memory. But it was no use.

“Time’s up,” announced the invigilator, a middle-aged man who began collecting answer sheets with an air of indifference. I closed my eyes, whispering a futile hope: Please let this be a bad dream. But deep down, I knew it wasn’t.

As I gathered my things and walked out of the exam hall, I stole one last glance at her. She was packing up her stationery, her face as calm and distant as ever. There was no point in approaching her—I knew she wouldn’t want to talk.

I descended the staircase, the hallway echoing with the shuffle of other students. Without a second thought, I headed straight to the parking lot. Sliding into my car, I drove home in silence, my mind replaying the chaos of the day. I decided to call it off—a day best left forgotten.

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