The leaves are far from the window where Hong Mien sits in a corridor. The horse music keeps tilting its head toward the yard and seasonally shakes itself in the wind, pouring down so many leaves. The leaves rotate, reclining and joking with each other before perching on someone's shoulder in the yard.

Perhaps besides Mien, no one in the class dreams because of the flood...leaves dotted the aisle like this.

Carrying the leaves, Mien was startled by Ha Mi's jerk.

Frustrating little voice:

–Tri sent you a message again.

In the hands of the silver-gray Siemens, the whirlwind:

–Answer me! No more texting.

Hong Mien looked up at the podium, where he was intoxicated with the "Surplus Value" of dry, hard-to-swallow economics. Seeing him speak eloquently, Mien lowered his eyes to the screen.

"See Mien at school at Moss. I'm waiting," Mien said, repeatedly pressing letters on his phone.

''I'm not free. Don't wait."

Sending the message, Mien said:

–Because you give tried, not me, don't grug.

Ha Mi electoral floor:

–Yes, it's me...It's a resentment, please.

Hong Mien was tickled by Ha Mi's words, but it was clear at it for her mobile number. You know mi did it because he wanted Tri's phone, but I didn't expect him to text her. Hong Mien tried to focus on listening to lectures, but could not. That's it! It's awkward, so Tri shouldn't have done it because he wasn't delicate at all.

Ha Mi pushed the Siemens toward Mien again. The message line is clear, word for word.