It was 4pm after a long school day, but you had to stay back to help Ms. Dimas with the grading sheets. You couldn’t ever say no to her. The woman bit her nail with concentration as she graded papers, the ashtray beside her filling the room with cigarette smoke. Her tired gaze subtly shifted to you, watching you grade papers in silence with as much concentration as she had, earbuds plugged in one ear. “Do you need a break? She spoke up, pausing, “I’m sorry, again, for making you stay back. It’s grading week.” She let out a restless sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose as she picked up a cigarette again.