Morgan wrestles with that strange urge to touch, to run sharp nails against smooth skin, to draw...blood? and as quickly as it came, the moment passes. Like clouds parting and giving way to the sun, feelings and perceptions shift, and it's just Akira standing there, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Why of course", agrees Morgan, smiling genuinely this time, "I wouldn't want you to be late!"

With a quick wave of the hand holding the essay, the English teacher slips back into the lounge, closing the door behind them, grateful to escape what had been an incredibly unsettling experience.

What had just happened?