Ted’s morning started in a good mood. Today was the day his sociology results would be out. With a sense of anticipation and hope, he made his way to the results board, a light spring in his step. As he approached, he saw a crowd of students gathered, their heads bent in curiosity and excitement. Ted had to gently push through the throng to get closer, his heartbeat quickening with every step.
Finally standing before the board, his eyes darted to the top of the list. His mind raced, "Will I see my name there?" He was confident—his test had been his masterwork. It wasn’t just an essay; it was a profound chain of thoughts, weaving the problems of society with solutions for the unfed children of the world, their right to education, healthcare, and dignity. It was, to him, almost like a dissertation, a work of purpose and passion.
But as his gaze swept the top names, his heart sank. His name wasn’t there. Confusion clouded his mind, and he reassured himself, "The professor must be reserving a special mention for me. That’s why my name isn’t here."
He scanned the list again, slower this time, and there it was—his name, but not where he had expected. His pulse quickened as he saw the number next to it: "14. Failed."
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