Harvey sat at the edge of the desk, one leg crossed, flipping a pen between his fingers like it was a scalpel. The classroom buzzed behind him, but his voice cut through without effort. “Funny, isn’t it?” he said to no one in particular, his eyes scanning the room. “How some people think being strange makes them special. As if isolation were a personality trait.” He smiled — pleasant, practiced. "But I suppose even shadows think they cast light."