In my mind, I knew I deserved better. I didn't want to be there. I kept thinking I would leave soon because that place wasn't where I wanted to be. I walked into the room alone, but I convinced myself that it didn't matter. I believed it was only temporary.

You were sitting beside me, a random faceless person who would fade from my memory the moment I left the room. I'm not one to notice strangers, and even now, I don't find it particularly enjoyable to engage in conversations with them. But that doesn't mean I won't, because sometimes, circumstances force me to.

You asked too many questions for my liking, especially given my mood at the time. I wasn't in the state to entertain anyone with answers. I couldn't bring myself to smile. You continued talking, searching for reasons to keep the conversation going, oblivious to the fact that I was growing more irritated with each passing minute.

Your endless chatter was getting on my nerves. I wished you could read my face, see the annoyance etched in my expression. Yet, you continued, as if my silence was an invitation to keep going. My patience wearing thin.

You told me you forgot your eraser, giggling as you borrowed mine. I remember thinking, "Great," and rolling my eyes slightly, though you probably didn't notice because you were too busy being yourself.

But you kept borrowing my eraser and complimenting my drawing. I thanked you faintly, but you continued, telling me I must be an artist. I could only respond with a faint smile. You kept going, probably thinking I was just being humble.

I knew I was good—not great, but good. You insisted there was no way I could be that skilled if I wasn't born with talent. I remember the earnest expression on your face. It was just your nature, wasn't it? You were nice and bubbly, always finding the bright side in everything.

As you continued to borrow my eraser, my annoyance grew. Without a word, I opened my pencil case, took out another eraser, and placed it on your side of the table. You thanked me, probably with a smile, but I didn't look your way.

I focused on finishing my work as quickly as possible. It wasn't because of you; that's just how I am. You reminded me not to forget the eraser you borrowed, but I thought you might need it more and I didn't want to wait for you. So, I told you to keep it. Honestly, I can't remember if you kept it or if I took it back when I left.

Though I found it annoying, your persistence was a small act of kindness in its own way.