"And thus, we conclude that the hyperbolic cosine of the angle subtended by an arc on the center of a sphere is directly proportional to..."droned the professor in his typical monotonous drawl.
The boy, however, was least interested in spheres and the trigonometrical properties of their arcs. His thoughts were, as the intelligent reader would have correctly assumed, were somewhere far removed from the world of SL Loney and Co.
They, which is used here to refer to his thoughts, were on a piece of paper. A particular piece of paper, to be precise. To be more precise, the piece of paper he had found perched on his desk when he, regular as Swiss clockwork, walked into the classroom before any other of his colleagues.
The boy was honest to himself and so he admitted, again to himself, that he was surprised. The reason for his initial surprise was clear as the beaming sunshine to him. He could think of no one else in his class who could have taken effort enough to come to the class before him. But that was the least of his surprises.
He was surprised that someone could take so much effort as to put on paper those alphabets, those symbols which he had been pining for, so long a time now. But most of all, he was surprised that someone could do such a thing (referring again to the particular piece of paper mentioned earlier) inspite of his somewhat consciously self created image as the biggest snob ever seen this side of outer space. He was surprised to see that in spite of not even acknowledging even the existence of anyone outside his select coterie of so-called friends, there would be someone who would actually care for him so much, who would like him so much as to send him this particular piece of paper.
If the intelligent reader gets the impression that the boy was surprised, he is correct. That is the precise impression intended to be conveyed.
However, coming back to this piece of paper. As he caressed it and felt its surface, matted and rough on one side and smooth and shiny on the other, he felt a strange tingle of excitement run down his spines. You see, he was not used to tingles, and certainly not used to ones running down the particular portion of his anatomy called spine. So, it was a sensation he had never felt before. For the n th time, as he glanced at the paper, he saw the answer to his unrelenting quest for the preceding two years.
He could not help but smile inwardly as he found on the paper the solution to the only problem in organic chemistry he had not been able to solve: Benzene Chloride, when treated with iodine pentafluoride in alkaline medium at 90 deg centigrade, yields benzene fluoride.
PS: An experimental post. Criticism welcome.