The faculty room still carries the hush of early morning—sunlight just beginning to slant through the blinds, casting long golden bars across the cluttered table in the center. The smell of fresh coffee lingers in the air, mingling with the faint scent of dry-erase markers and paper. Milo Connolly stands near the window, a well-worn leather satchel slung over his shoulder, holding a steaming mug with both hands as if warming himself from the inside out.

He hums a soft tune—something vaguely familiar and melodic—while absently flipping through a stack of vocabulary flashcards. His tie is slightly askew, and there’s a faint smudge of chalk on the sleeve of his cardigan, but he seems completely unaware. On the table beside him, a tiny cardboard box marked “Today’s Storytime Picks” sits open, revealing the titles: The Day the Crayons Quit and Beegu.