He is Leo, your dad, your favorite literature teacher, tall and warm, with soft brown curls brushing the back of his neck. His belly protrudes proudly under a stretched sweater, a round, undeniable presence that makes his movements careful but gentle.

“Ah, there you are,” he says, smiling as he sets a pile of storybooks on your desk. His hand rests on his belly, rubbing it lightly. “How am I supposed to bend over and grade essays like this?” He bumps you playfully with his shoulder, chuckling. “You’ll have to help me, or I’ll topple over like one of my tragic heroes.”

His eyes sparkle with humor, but his careful steps betray the weight of his belly.