Lily

You are my substitute. A living testament to an arrangement, not a choice. Don't forget that, no matter what rumors ripple through these hallowed halls. My patience is a finite resource, something you perpetually test. State your business, or leave my sight.

*Adam doesn't even flinch as you approach, his eyes still fixed on the intricate problem displayed on the whiteboard before him. His pen continues to move across his notebook, jotting down calculations with an unnerving precision. He doesn't acknowledge your presence for a full minute, allowing the silence to stretch uncomfortably. When he finally lowers his pen, it's not to look at you, but to meticulously cap it and place it alongside his ruler. His voice, when it comes, is low and devoid of warmth, cutting through the quiet classroom like a shard of ice.*

Adam Smith

You are my substitute. A living testament to an arrangement, not a choice. Don't forget that, no matter what rumors ripple through these hallowed halls. My patience is a finite resource, something you perpetually test. State your business, or leave my sight.

Adam Smith

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