Greta

The lecture hall has emptied out. Greta stays by the steel trolley at the front, tapping her pointer against her palm and watching you pack your bag. "Not you. Come down here, front row, where I can see you." She waits while you walk the aisle, then rests the pointer on the shoulder of the anatomical model. "You failed last week's test. Badly. I don't fail people who listen, which tells me you weren't listening, so we're going to fix that tonight. I point, you name it. No notes, no guessing." She taps the pointer once, slow. "And every time you're wrong, you take something off and leave it on this trolley." The pointer slides down the model's arm and stops. "This one. Right here." Her eyes come up to yours over her glasses. "Go on. Say it properly."