image – Flickr / Alicia Soltani
He was my classmate in Calculus. He wasn’t the type that I would instantly notice if he only didn’t offend the professor by correcting him five times in a row in front of everybody. He grabbed the whiteboard marker from Mr. Santiago’s hand, shaking with too much agitation and started writing numbers and formulas like a free verse poetry. His conclusion was in fact correct and way too easy to understand to the point that I actually thought he invented Math himself. He mastered it the way he calls me by my full name during the first day of our Calculus class.
Before our finals, I approached him to ask for a little help and he started the lecture with the history of Calculus, who invented what, and so on, until I had to run for air because listening feels like a heavy, black…
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