Morgan’s Perspective

The study room was quiet except for the soft sound of pages turning and the steady ticking of the wall clock.

I sat at the long wooden table, sleeves rolled up, my posture relaxed but alert. My eyes moved steadily across the document in front of me. I didn’t rush. I didn’t skim. I read every line.

Across from me, the professor adjusted his glasses and watched closely, as if waiting for me to slip.

Tim stood near the wall with his arms crossed, disbelief written all ...