The PERSON sat down. They pulled out their notebook (note — this is just one person, and I, a man, understand the rules of grammar, I am simply adopting the conventional ‘they’), and began to take notes.
The PERSON in question scanned the room for a friendly face. Ah, yes, the nice girl from the bookstore. They had bonded over their shared love of having their nails painted for an exorbitant price.
The professor asked if anyone had questions. This PERSON did have questions — only questions, and no answers. So they raised their hand. The professor called on the PERSON, and the PERSON began to speak. The speaking voice was high-pitched and annoying — the type of voice it’s very easy to tune out. The type of voice that’s so annoying that should you happen to tune it out, you cannot consider yourself at fault for failing to hear anything intelligent the PERSON was saying.
The professor answered the PERSON’S questions kindly. Perhaps he had sympathy for the PERSON because he had daughters of his own. DAMMIT – CHILDREN — CHILDREN OF HIS OWN. Perhaps he wanted to bone the PERSON. His sexuality was unclear, but it’s safe to say he was not gay.
The PERSON relaxed a little after the professor kindly answered the question. The PERSON arched their back solicitously and looked around the room to see who was looking at them. The PERSON jutted their chest out and must have known they had a rack that drew the attention of straight men (N.B. this is not necessarily rack as in breast. The PERSON might have brought a selection of items from Nordstrom Rack. Who am I to say). The PERSON smiled, grateful for the male gaze. Grateful for all gazes, actually.
Then the PERSON felt something in their pants. Oh no — the PERSON would have to get up and leave the room. Another lecture missed because of menstruation. No wonder their GPA was so low.