The universe. End of year. We were distributed sheets to write what we think about the main subject teachers this year (by the way, the teachers were just legendary crazy this year). The papers were ordered to collect me. I just needed to run that day, so I told them to put the sheets on my table and left.

The next day, I threw my pieces on the table and pulled my hand to the box.

You would be more careful. There was a voice behind the back of the tomb, but not without participation.

I stood with my hand stretched out of surprise. Then he turned to his voice, and saw his fellow group behind his back.

What is it?

There is too much hatred in this box. Maybe remove the hand. He said and left sharply.

For a long time I stood with my hand extended.