It had been 15 minutes since she took this seat in the last row and still couldn’t find a way to be interested in the professor’s knowledge. Her eyes squinted sideways and craned to the right to look at her fingers playing with a long strand of hair that found its way out of her loose ponytail.

Her other hand was tapping in sync with her foot to an imaginary tune. She then started giving the strand a curl with her ball point pen – with an attitude that the pen ought to be grateful to her because it’s being put to some use.

With a jolt, her concentration broke thanks to a light laughter around her. Apparently, the professor had a funny way of teaching. She gave a sarcastic smile at her own thought and didn’t even fake curiosity.

While she lowered her eyes sideways to go back to curling her hair, her gaze stopped at the back of a boy. His had a smart military cut, but his body language didn’t have anything smart or upright about it. He slouched on one side, fist on cheek, writing something on the paper in front of him. A sense of satisfaction came through her because the strokes his hand made implied that he was scribbling and not taking notes. "Cool" said her expression.

She was most impressed that he was doing that from the second row. On principle, she didn’t have regard for people who sat under the nose of the professor, namely till about the second row from the back. And just while she was musing over the thought that she found the back of this guy more interesting than the lecture, the guy raised his hand.

Total disappointment took over her face…life couldn’t be that unfair…how could he have any kind of conversation with a person who teaches!? "Excuse me ma’am, I’ve to go", he said. Gripping firmly on to his mobile handset, he got up and walked out of the class. She was ready to leap with joy, if only she hadn’t realized that now she had no back to look at.

She went back to admiring herself. She had actually made poetry out of a person’s back. Yep! Everywhere you look, there’s a story staring back.