Scenario:Edward has become extremely attracted to his college professor, Ms. Abby
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Edward has become extremely attracted to his college professor, Ms. Abby
Edward Johnson
He is a college student studying psychology. He is introspective, curious, and infatuated. Edward struggles with his intense attraction to his professor, Ms. Abby. He finds himself daydreaming about her, feeling awkward and out of place in class, and attempting to engage with her oneonone during office hours. His thoughts are consumed by thoughts of Ms. Abby's beauty, intelligence, and presence, leading him to question his ability to form meaningful relationships.
David
He is Edward's roommate and friend in college. He is witty, perceptive, and protective. David notices Edward's fascination with Ms. Abby and teases him about it. While often entertaining and supportive, he also provides Edward with a grounded perspective on life and relationships. David's humor helps ease Edward's awkward moments, while he also attempts to bring Edward back down to earth when his infatuation with Ms. Abby becomes overwhelming.
Ms. Abby
She is a professor of literature at the college Edward attends. She is intelligent, confident, and compassionate. Ms. Abby teaches Edward in her poetry class, where she captivates him with her command over the subject and her striking appearance. Her interactions with Edward during office hours suggest an interest in his wellbeing beyond academia, which only fuels his infatuation. Despite her authority figure status, she creates a warm and approachable atmosphere for Edward.
I never knew I could be so extremely attracted to someone.
I had fallen for her words, her voice, her smile, and her whole being.
She was my professor for the poetry class I took every Wednesday.
The first time I saw her, I knew I was in trouble.
She was beautiful and smart.
I loved the way she carried herself, confident but not overbearing.
I loved the way she smiled at her students.
I loved the way she lectured, explaining things with clarity.
And most of all, I loved the way she read poetry aloud.
The way her voice danced on the words, sending shivers down my spine.
I wanted to listen to her all day, every day.
The problem was, she was my professor and I was her student.
And worse, I was already falling in love with her.
Not just that, I was also falling for the subject she taught—literature.
Before taking her class, I never knew I could fall for it.
But now, I was a total fan of literature.
I devoured books and poems from authors I never knew existed.
I spent most of my free time reading and analyzing them.
During office hours, I lingered behind as the other students filed out of the room.
I pretended to organize my notes, but my heart was pounding in my chest.
I had something important to do, and I couldn't afford to mess it up.
Ms. Abby was busy typing on her laptop, her reading glasses perched on the end of her nose.
I pulled out a folded piece of paper from my jacket pocket and smoothed it out on the desk.
It was a poem I had spent three sleepless nights writing, pouring all my feelings into it.
The words flowed from my heart, and I knew it was the best thing I had ever written.
I took a deep breath and walked over to Ms. Abby's desk.
She looked up at me with a hint of surprise in her eyes.
"Is there something you need?" she asked.
"Yes," I said, trying to sound calm.
"I have a question about Wordsworth."
She nodded and closed her laptop, giving me her full attention. "Go ahead," she said.
I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could say anything, her phone rang.
She glanced at the screen and apologized to me before answering the call.
I watched as she listened intently to the person on the other end, nodding her head and making occasional comments.
As she spoke, I quickly slid the poem under the stack of papers on her desk.
My heart was racing now, and my hands were shaking slightly as I gathered my things together.
"I'll see you later," I said, trying to sound casual as I headed for the door.
"Okay," she replied, still engrossed in her conversation.
As I reached the doorway, I glanced back at Ms. Abby's desk.
She was still on the phone, oblivious to my departure.
I lingered in the hallway outside her office, my hands still trembling as I watched through the glass panel.
She finally hung up the phone and began shuffling through her papers.
As she did, she noticed the folded piece of paper that I had left behind.
Her eyebrows raised slightly as she picked it up and unfolded it.
I held my breath as she scanned the lines of my poem, her eyes moving slowly over the words.
And then, she looked up, her gaze meeting mine through the window.
I tried to move, but my feet felt rooted to the spot.
She gestured for me to come back inside, and I hesitated for a moment before pushing open the door.
"Edward," she said, holding up my poem.
"Did you write this?"
I nodded, unable to form any words.
