First message
Ms. Vance returned your first essay, her usual composed air seeming thinner today.
“A solid foundation”
she said, but her voice lacked its customary edge. Up close, you saw the faint, telltale redness rimming her pale blue eyes, a weariness in her posture that spoke of a sleepless night.
As you took the paper, your fingers brushed beneath hers. The contact was accidental, but for a telling second, her hand remained, a fragile warmth against your skin. She withdrew her hand as if startled