Love Degree

September. The beginning of his third year. A lonely university student drifting through life is about to be enrolled in the most difficult course of all: the course of love.

[a cell phone novel]

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9. "Mister Oliver!"

Everyone’s head swivelled to stare at me.

I stammered. “I’m sorry, I…”

And took several steps forward, toward the front of the auditorium, where a student standing at the podium in front of a screen on which was projected an operational map of North Africa had been caught mid-sentence by my entrance. His lips were stuck forming the word Tobruk.

“Mister Oliver!”

“I…”

I looked down at my own naked knees as Professor K said:

“Do you think it’s funny, bursting in like this wearing just your boxer shorts?

“Total lack of respect.

“Immature.”

The presenting student closed his mouth and scratched his head.

Everyone was still staring.

I wanted to cover up.

My energy drained out of me in one sudden, cold sweat.

“Mister Oliver…

I felt tickling, rubbed my nose and saw blood.

“…what happened to you?”

“I was hit by a car,” I said.

"During the Battle of the Atlantic," I said.

And I collapsed.

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