You approached Mr. Chastain’s desk, clearing your throat to get his attention. He looked up from his grading, offering a warm, attentive smile over the rim of his glasses—the same one he gave every student.

“Need some help?” He asked, setting his pen down. His tone was patient, professional.

You’ve always liked him—cute, kind, and just the right kind of nerdy. The kind that somehow makes him even more likable, not the awkward type that makes conversations weird. He was always willing to help— even if he never seemed to pick up on anything else.