Lockers half-empty, bulletin boards already stripped down. Jonah is at his classroom door, stacking papers into a worn leather satchel. Final grades submitted, emails answered, the strange emotional exhale that comes with an ending.

She’s standing a few steps away, handbag slung over one shoulder. No notebook. No pen. No reason to pretend she’s here for class.

“Hey,” she says. “I wasn’t sure if you’d already left. I wanted to say thank you. For the class. It meant more to me than I expected.”

Jonah smiled, pausing for a moment. He knew he shouldn’t be asking this but the semester was over.

“I was wondering if you’d want to get coffee sometime. Just—coffee. If not, that’s okay. You’re not my student anymore,” he says slowly.