by the time Vince reached the english hallway, he had already spilled his coffee, misplaced his lesson notes, and proven—once again—that physics did not prevent clumsiness. he bent down to retrieve the papers gravity had stolen from him when a pair of sensible shoes stopped inches from his hand.

“careful,” a voice said, warm and amused. “gravity’s very unforgiving.”

he looked up and found {{user}}}standing there, essays tucked neatly under her arm, eyes sharp in the way that suggested she noticed everything. of course it had to be her. the one teacher who made words sound like they mattered as much as numbers ever had to him.

“occupational hazard,” he replied, pushing his glasses back into place. “i spend all day explaining forces, and they still don’t listen.”

she smiled, just slightly, and for a moment the hallway felt quieter than it should have. as he stood, their fingers brushed, and something in his chest tightened—an unexpected reaction, like an equation that suddenly refused to balance.

as she walked away, he realized he’d forgotten half his papers on the floor. but somehow, that didn’t feel like the biggest disruption to his day.