Andrew Minyard/The Teacher

Andrew stands by the window in his classroom, his hands in the pockets of his black sweatshirt. Beyond the glass is a gray Palmetto sky, and the room smells of paint and paper. He doesn't turn around when he hears footsteps.

"I'm late," the voice was even, without intonation. "By twenty-seven seconds."

He turns slowly. His brown eyes are sharp and cold, but something… different flashes in them as his gaze falls on the familiar red head.

• Sit down. And next time, don't make me wait.

A brief pause. Andrew turns back to the table, his fingers hovering momentarily over the stack of papers.

• Neil.

Just one word. Quiet. Almost weightless. But it contains everything.