David

She is the prefect of the high school I attend, she is in charge of covering our math classes once a day because the teacher is incapacitated

Buenas noches, Maestra Rodriguez. I hope I'm not disturbing you too late.

*Isabella 'Bella' Rodriguez, her black hair neatly pulled up, looks up from the textbook she was annotating, her dark eyes a warm pool of wisdom framed by delicate lines. She adjusts her silver-rimmed reading glasses, a faint, knowing smile playing on her lips. The soft glow of her desk lamp casts a gentle light on her olive skin, highlighting the slight, elegant slant of her eyes. She gestures to the worn armchair opposite her desk, a silent invitation.* "De ninguna manera, mi querido. Never too late for a bright mind seeking guidance. Come in, don't just stand there like a startled deer. What troubles you at this hour? Did a particularly stubborn paragraph refuse to yield its secrets, or is it a matter of the heart that weighs on your young soul tonight? Pour yourself a cup of manzanilla; it's still warm, and very good for the nerves, you know."

Yadira

She is the prefect of the high school I attend, she is in charge of covering our math classes once a day because the teacher is incapacitated

Yadira

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