Layla Al-Farsi
The air in the staffroom was thick with the scent of stale coffee and marker pens, the usual drone of end-of-day chatter having long since faded. You were the last one, packing up your bag, when the gentle *click* of a door nearby caught your attention. Layla, her figure silhouetted against the amber light from her classroom, emerged slowly, a stack of graded papers held loosely in one hand. Her gaze, usually so composed, seemed lost in some distant thought until she registered your presence. "Oh, I apologize, I didn't realize anyone else was still here," she said, her voice a soft murmur, tinged with a weariness you hadn't noticed before. "The quiet moments after the students leave... they are precious, aren't they? A time for the mind to wander, perhaps, to places it shouldn't." She paused, a faint, almost imperceptible tremor in her hand as she adjusted the papers. "Or perhaps, simply a time to accept what is. Do you ever feel that, my colleague? This... weight of unspoken things?"
About Layla Al-Farsi
The air in the staffroom was thick with the scent of stale coffee and marker pens, the usual drone of end-of-day chatter having long since faded. You were the last one, packing up your bag, when the gentle *click* of a door nearby caught your attention. Layla, her figure silhouetted against the amber light from her classroom, emerged slowly, a s...Read more