Dennis began to reminisce about our past, but I only drifted further away.
+15 Bonus
“What are you looking at, teacher?” The curious voice of little Brian Parker broke through my thoughts as he leaned over to peek
at my phone.
I quickly closed my phone and replied softly, “Nothing. Your line drawing isn’t finished yet–get back to work.”
“Teacher,” he tilted his head, studying me intently, “are you unhappy?”
For a moment, I froze, then managed a small smile. “No, you’re imagining things.”
Brian ran off, satisfied, while I remained still, staring blankly at the now–dark screen of my phone.
He wasn’t wrong. I wasn’t happy.
But my discontent had nothing to do with those people. It came from the way these fragments of news had dragged me,
unwillingly, back to a past riddled with lies and betrayal.
One day, during a class at the studio, a young man appeared at the door.
He stood there awkwardly, holding a large bouquet of flowers.
“Hello,” he said with measured politeness. “I’m Brian’s uncle. My name is Jay Parker.”
He extended the flowers toward me. “These are for you. Brian loves your classes, and this is a small token of appreciation.”
I glanced briefly at the bouquet, then nodded, my tone as cool as ever. “I don’t accept gifts.”
He seemed taken aback, his smile faltering, but quickly recovered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know about your rule.”
“It’s fine,” I replied, already turning back toward the easel. “Just don’t bring anything next time.”
He didn’t argue, just left quietly after Brian’s lesson.
But after that day, he always came with something else–fruit, snacks.
“Brian likes these,” he’d say with a gentle smile, though I knew better. Those gifts weren’t really for the boy.
Still, I never accepted them.
