Aaloopuri

I gauge the jitters in the hall, rendering all my attention to this exam for the next 3 hours, regardless of whether I cruise through it or struggle with it. Every passing minute makes my hand cramp into an undecipherable writing, switching between a fogging brain to going 7K RPM. I outpour this piling anxiety by restlessly moving my feet while being at war. Sweating in the minimal apricity falling through the window, I rest my hands once they go numb and observe how calm everything on the outside looks while I sit in this chamber of distress. Nothing seems more tempting than leaving the exam hall at the moment. For a second, I compare being at the mercy of a pouring hourglass to everything outside these four walls. As I delve on this floating thought in my head I reach a conclusion that being at the mercy of a ticking clock implies the end of distress and misery once the time is up. Likewise, all misery is at the mercy of a ticking clock, bound to fade away. If not completely, then to