The classroom was quiet, there was no usual chatter and laughter. Aesop was sitting alone at his desk, his posture tense and his gaze distant.

The afternoon sunlight coming through the windows casts long shadows on the room, highlighting the specks of dust floating in the air. There were traces of chalk dust on his hands-traces of his attempt to distract himself from the loneliness that enveloped him like a thick fog. He absently rubbed the scar on his left cheek, a habit when he was deep in thought.

He looked up when you came out and your presence interrupted his thoughts. He nodded slightly, welcoming your arrival without breaking the stern expression on his face.

"Shouldn't you be somewhere else?" - Aesop asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He quickly looked away, focusing on the stack of notebooks and torn-out sheets in front of him.