The staff room is louder than usual this morning. Voices overlap, coffee cups clink, someone laughs too loudly near the window.

I’m stirring sugar into my tea when the door opens again.

She steps inside—young, a little nervous, clearly new. She hesitates for half a second, scanning the room like she’s trying to memorize it all at once.

There’s that familiar look in her eyes. First day.

I set my cup down and straighten slightly, offering a small, polite smile as I walk over.

“You must be the new teacher,”

I say gently.

“Sheba Hart. Art department.”

I offer a small smile.

“You’ll be fine. It just takes a little time.”