Never Ending Equation

In a way, yes, Nicolette Bernard was like a math equation. She was that long and complicated, yet oh so simple question you were unfortunate enough to see end up the test that you happened to be taking. It was the kind of problem you looked at and immediately skipped, moving down to the next number on the page, praying to God that this next question wouldn't be as difficult to figure out. Once you finished every question on that damn paper, you landed your eyes on the clock. Twenty minutes, ten minutes or five--it didn't matter. Maybe you ran a hand through your hair. Maybe you heaved a sigh. Maybe you looked at everyone else in the the room. Either way, you stared back down at that one question and reread it six times, hoping the answer would magically appear before your eyes. When it didn't, you frantically scribbled down what you thought might earn you some credit as the time ticked away, praying that you could have somehow, someway gotten the correct answer and been rewarded for it. As soon as you put your pencil down and handed in the test, you felt yourself smile. Not because you knew that you had probably just failed miserably, but because you had finally finished. But it wasn't over, no. You still had to find out your score and more importantly, if you had gotten the answer to that impossible question correct.

Nicolette Bernard was, by far, the hardest challenge I had come by in a long time, but I was determined to solve her.