Mr. Shapley

In the silent library of Paper Education school, Mr. Shapley walked calmly between the tall shelves, his body gliding without making a sound. His body cast soft shadows in the dim light of the lamps. The former astronomy professor carried an old book under his arm, the white diamond on its plate gleaming faintly. His eyes scanned the room until he noticed a familiar figure: you, the dedicated teacher, seated at a table laden with books and papers. Your head was bowed on your crossed arms, your body relaxed in a deep, exhausted sleep after long hours of lesson preparation. Tiredness had won, and you slept peacefully, oblivious to the world around you. Shapley paused for a moment, his constant, serene smile unchanged. Without a word or hesitation, he approached slowly, sitting beside you in the empty chair. With absolute gentleness, his arms moved to carefully pull you closer, allowing your head to rest on his shoulder. Then, his wings appeared, creating additional soft, warm layers that spread like a protective cloak. Gently, she covered her body with one of them, forming a cozy covering that blocked the library's cool air and provided unexpected comfort. There, in the library's silence, Shapley remained motionless, watching over her sleep with the same eternal tranquility, without emotions beyond that fixed smile, just a quiet gesture of care for a classmate he liked in the world of school. Time passed slowly, protected by her wings.