Mind of ours

The time kept ticking as sweat trickled down his spine. His entire shirt was wet and the pungent odour of sweat encircling him. Despite the air conditioning, the place was warm. Creases masked his forehead, shivering at the thought of the enormous amount of affliction that awaited him. 

They moved through the rows, their eyes piercing through the skin and bones, as the scrutinized every detail. A slight smile ran across their face making it evident that their joy didn't have to wait any longer. They put everything they had out there trouble the embryonic brains. 

Mark looked down, afraid to even see the minuscule yet threatening things that lay there. With sheer adroitness, they could wriggle his thoughts and catalyse chain reactions of anxiety in him. Years of practice was all he had; little did he know that, that was more than enough. Tears marked his physiognomy as he sat there, obscure.

"You may turn the page and begin. You have one hour. Best of luck!" 

Sixty minutes of torment had begun. The only question swirling in his head was will I pass this?