The Dot And The Line A Romance In Lower Mathematics Novels & Stories

A basic rule in the mathematical operation involving rational number tells us that fractions should be reduced to lowest terms such that the numerator and the denominator are relatively prime. The question of how much or how much less the value of a thing is immaterial whenever life is reduced to its plain and simple terms. And from it we derive absolute and not relative value, just like time and distance where integers are always positive. But it also reminds us of a much greater truth that in figures and in real life, the quantity of inequality will always be greater that equality.

“It’s trig.” “Huh?” he asked, squinting at the numbers. As in, trigonometry? “And algebra,” she confirmed, sounding convinced. “They’ve given me the distance between two points on the map and the degrees of this angle…” She muttered something else to herself then nodded. “It’s a math problem to calculate the length of this line.” Her finger traced a route from a dot in the middle of the map to the star on the left. Holy shit, it really was trig.

And the more I understood it, the clearer I saw the imaginary line that separated the star sections from the others. If I was to translate it in Mathematics, the star sections would be the numerator, the lower sections would be the denominator, and this University would be the fraction bar. We would always stay on the top, and they would always stay at the bottom. I know. They, the denominators, should have higher value than us, the numerators. But that rule doesn’t work here. Because as long as the bar between us remains the Hamlet Creek University, we will forever be an improper fraction. Other than the change itself, this will also be a constant thing in the world.

I tease, feigning innocence. “Baby girl, I do not want to think about my parents when my dick is aching for you,” he mutters, adjusting himself under the table. My hand is so close, I can’t help myself—I stroke him, slow and light, just once. His breath catches. “Diavolina. Let me touch you. I need to feel how wet you are for me.” I subtly spread my legs under the table. Dante leans in, grabbing my leg and hooking it over his knee, spreading me wider. He kisses my neck as a distraction while sliding a hand beneath my dress. His fingers move with precision—straight to my thong, brushing the lace.

As some tears slipped her. "It would have been better if he wouldn't have cared about me. Than he wouldn't get much hurt. " she said as I looked at her. "The straight line means death. That's why we need fluctuation. That means we are living. That's what it is like in love too. We need to have highers and lowers to enjoy the essence of it. " I told her as she smiled. "I get it. That why she loves you " she said as I smiled too.