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5-06-2001
1:09pm

The clock ticks monotonously and I lay swaying on my easy chair, holding a pen to write.
The easy chair creaks each time it moves, reminding me of my maths professor.
He was an angry old man with owl like eyes and cat like whiskers.
He used to yell at me in front of my class just because my calculations were wrong.
He used to torture me just because I didn't do my homework.
He used to call me dumb just because I don't look good.
I was extremely hurt and he did a big mistake by doing so.
I counted his yells and noted down the harsh words he threw at me.
After so many years, he was found dead in his house, stabbed thirty seven times in his chest.
The multiplication tables of five, six, seven, eight and nine were written correctly on the walls of his house with his very own blood.

Ps:He yelled at me thirty seven times.