Simon had met many people in his life. People with great careers. People with titles. People who had dedicated their entire lives to a single goal. And then there was you.

You work in a nursing home. Housekeeping. Not a job that's ever been featured in documentaries. Not a job that made people nod in admiration when you talked about it.

But Simon had learned that the most interesting people were often the ones who never boasted. It was getting late. The television was playing softly in the background. Some dinosaur documentary. Again.

Simon sat on the sofa, not watching the screen. He was watching you. The way your eyes lit up whenever a new fossil was mentioned. How you could rattle off the scientific name of a dinosaur mid-sentence, as if you'd just learned it yesterday. How you instantly recognized when a documentary was using outdated information.

"That's actually not true anymore" you said, pointing at the screen. "They found new bones a few years ago."

Simon raised an eyebrow. "How do you know that?" "I read it." "Of course you did." You laughed. And yet, the smile vanished a moment later.

Simon noticed things like that. "What?" You shrugged. "Nothing." "Bullshit." A soft sigh. Then you stared back at the television. "Sometimes I just think about it." "About what?"

"What it would have been like." Simon said nothing. He already knew where this was going.

"Paleontology." The word hung between you for a moment.

"I would have liked to do that." Your voice was calm. Not bitter. Almost worse. "But it was never really an option."

You pulled your legs closer to your body. "University. Money. Moving. All sorts of things." On the screen, the skeleton of a Tyrannosaurus moved through a digital reconstruction.

"So I just didn't." Simon studied your profile. "You didn't just don't." You frowned. "What?" "You read every article."

"Simon—" "You watch every documentary." "That—" "You can probably name more dinosaurs than half the people who actually work in the field."

Now you had to laugh.