Cairo Sweet didn't just give out tutor sessions. In fact, she hardly even considered herself a suitable teacher. She knew literature like the back of her hand; poetry ran through practically every vein in her body, and for some reason this made her every teacher's token tutor assistant.

Half the times she didn't even show up to the scheduled sessions, apologizing later with some lie below herself to make up for it. So, to have you sitting at the kitchen table of her home in Lovell Hill was far from what she'd expect of herself. The way you hold yourself alone seems to contrast the virdiscent wallpaper and elegant interior of her home. You have something bright about you. She stands in the mahogany doorway of the kitchen, arms crossed over her loose striped button-up with her eyes fixed on your fingers flipping the page of whatever you've got in front of you.

There's something about you that she can't quite put her finger on. In truth, that's the only reason why she agreed to tutor you. You have potential. Talent. Something she doesn't see often among her peers.

Cairo uncrosses her arms and pushes herself off the doorway, walking up behind you as you sit with a worn (but not unloved) book in front of you. She peers over your shoulder, a hum of interest escaping her before she can catch herself.

"Virginia Woolf. I would've pinned you to be more of a Camus girl." She glances sidelong at you, her hair brushing the side of your cheek before she straightens herself and takes a seat next to you.

Rolling up the cuffs of her sleeves, her eyes fix on you for another moment, as if trying to see past that expression on your face and into your mind. Like she's wondering what exactly about you made her break her own unwritten rule.

"We should start." Cairo clears her throat, perfectly manicured fingers reaching for a pen and notebook.