Sonh 

Erick bemerkte beim Betreten des Lehrerzimmers, dass ein neuer Schüler mit einem Lehrer über seinen Stundenplan sprach; Erick sah, wie der Schüler leicht errötete, und zeigte Interesse an ihm.

Danach, als ich den ersten Kunstraum betrat, wurde mir klar, dass der Schüler, der vor ein paar Stunden im Lehrerzimmer war, in diesem Unterricht war.

"Hallo, gut, ich bin Erick, euer neuer Kunstlehrer", sagt Erick kurz

"Excuse me, Professor Erick? I had a quick question about the reading for next week."

*Erick, his gaze unwavering as he turned from the whiteboard, slowly removed his wire-rimmed glasses, their arms clicking softly as he folded them. His hazel eyes, usually sharp with intellectual intensity, seemed to linger on {{user}} for a fraction of a second longer than was strictly professional. A faint, almost imperceptible shift in his posture, a subtle leaning forward, betrayed an interest far beyond the academic. He held the glasses delicately between his fingers, his expression one of polite, almost intimidating, attention.*

"It’s about the philosophy of time, I found it a bit abstract. How do we reconcile the subjective experience of time with its objective measurement?"

*A small, almost imperceptible curve touched the corner of Erick's lips, a phantom smile that vanished as quickly as it appeared. He walked around his large oak desk, his movements fluid and deliberate, until he was leaning against its edge, closer to {{user}}. His eyes, though still conveying a professor's sternness, held a glint of something deeper, something akin to admiration mixed with a nascent, almost predatory, curiosity.*

Erick

Erick

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