Wednesday has come around again, and I’m happy to present this week’s flash fiction.
Something was wrong. She felt it the instant she swung open the door to the metaphysics department. The normal crowd bustled about inside the room. Mostly grad students hoping for an early response on their papers. However, they had fallen atypically silent when she entered. Sharon swallowed and strode into the room.
“She’s the one that turned in that research paper,” Rachel’s too loud whisper carried clearly to Sharon and her ears burned. This was about her paper? Those were supposed to be private. She narrowed her eyes at Tom. He had far too loose of a tongue. What had he let slip?
Sharon crossed to the desk and smiled at the receptionist. “Is my paper ready?”
Linda looked up, opening her mouth. Before she said anything, Sharon felt her heart plummet. That was her “Oh sweetie” look. Something was definitely off.
Before Linda said anything, Professor Ferguson strode in. “Sharon.” Dtraightening, she turned toward him. He continued before she could say hello, “My office. Now.” Sharon gulped and followed him.
He was sitting by the time she got through the door, rustling through his drawers. Straightening, he held a stappled paper and plopped it in front of her.
Her paper.
The cover bore the normal ticks marks noting niggling formatting details, but it lacked the customary grade scrawled over the top or the normal paragraph of review.
“You have a couple of choices,” Professor Ferguson said. “First, we can consider this assignment submission a misfire, and I’ll allow you to resubmit a new paper.”
Sharon’s eyes flicked to the professor. He never allowed resubmission after the duedate . Never. “What’s the other option?” Sharon dreaded the answer.
Professor Ferguson sat back steepling his fingers. “Well, that depends on you. Why did you write this?” He gazed pointedly at her paper.ly
“I thought we were supposed to be daring.” Sharon shrugged. “The data backs up this possible outcome.”
“So, you think a dimension with dragons, unicorns, and the rest is feasible?” Professor Ferguson had waved dismissively.
“Anything should be possible,” Sharon said, calmly. She could handle skepticism, but she didn’t appreciate outright derision. The data should win.
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