History is Like a movie

Alex looked at me with a knowing smile, his voice echoing softly in the abandoned school library. We had made a plan to study together the following day, and now we found ourselves seated close to each other, surrounded by towering bookshelves that held years of forgotten knowledge.

As I stared at my open textbook, frustration tightened its grip on me. It had been more than half an hour since we had begun, yet I still couldn't wrap my head around the subject. The words seemed to escape from Alex's mouth as mere whispers, barely registering in my mind. The topic was dry and uninteresting, and it took every ounce of willpower not to let my eyelids grow heavy with sleep.

Just as I was about to succumb to a drowsy haze, I felt a sharp sting on my forehead. "Ouch," I groaned, automatically reaching up to rub the spot. Alex's playful antics always managed to snap me out of it.