Theodore came to. Lying on his bed in the exact same position, the room had painted itself in shadows. The cool evening air blew through the blinds. He quivered. A mental clarity infused both his body and spirit. He spoke to the ceiling with relief in his eyes. “It’s finally over.”

He grabbed his phone. On his list of contacts, he called his boss.

“Hi Joe.”

“Hi Theodore, I know you called in sick today. How are you doing? Are you feeling better?”

“Yes. I, uh, I have some news. I applied and got hired for a new job as a teacher.”

“Oh, that sounds terrific. Where are you teaching?”

“Gillette, along Salvador.”

“Wow, my son goes there. He’s a junior. What subjects are you teaching?”

“All of them.”

“Like math and English and science and everything?”

“Mostly. Yes.”

“Wow. Okay. Then, I assume you are leaving us?”

“Yeah.”

“No problem. I wish you the best of luck in your endeavors.”

“Thank you, Joe.”

“Take care. Oh! I’ll make sure to have your last check paid by this Friday.”

“Thank you.”

“Alright. Bye-bye.”

What now? A candid contentment entranced Theodore. He looked around his tidy bedroom. A box of books lay underneath his desk. He walked over and squatted down. On the top of his old collection, he found Tuesdays with Morrie, a paperback copy with the binding falling apart. It was one of the books he used for his English class.

A book about life and how to live a meaningful life. It follows the progression of an old man succumbing to a terminal illness through the perspective of his former student. Theodore believed, young or old, everyone should at least try to read it once.

The evening condensed into midnight. Theodore wiped away his tears, remembering the last days of summer where he hugged his grandfather before they permanently parted. He remembered a precise calmness and understanding wherever his grandpa went. His grandpa understood the impatience of the younger generation and how some despised old people like him, perceiving the elderly as a nuisance and hindrance. He understood the grins of the fishmongers and grocers in the supermarket whenever he talked to them about their day. He understood happiness in the walks he took with his precious grandson while they passed by the hundreds of grannies doing taichi every morning, with the incessant buzz of cicadas in the background throughout the summer.

Theodore closed the book and returned it to its original box. He then closed his eyes as well, letting sleep soothe any of the residual longing he might have missed.

The individual stared at him wide-eyed. He stared back, making a weird face.

“Hi, Teddy.”

“Hello my friend.”

“Was I your favorite student?”

Theodore pursed his lips. He always responded indirectly to questions like these. You are one of my favorite students. I like each and everyone one of my students for different reasons. Or he kept silent, continuing to purse his lips.

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“Just admit it. You can’t lie.” The individual smugly grinned.

Theodore didn’t run away this time. “Yes.”

The individual blinked in confusion. Theodore laughed. He firmly reestablished, “Yes. You are my favorite student. You are very special. There is no one I met quite like you.”

The white room morphed into Theodore’s old classroom. Rather than individual desks one would find in a typical classroom, long tables were spaced in different configurations, some flushed against each other and others apart. With chairs lined along these long tables, it allowed for students to more easily group up and communicate ideas with one another.

At the front of the room, there were many novelties on display. A plasma ball, a ripple tank, a magnetically levitating spinning top, a tensegrity table, and more, enticed students to fidget around with them when they were bored or busy thinking. An oak bookshelf to the side contained over a hundred novels of literary distinction, some of which were used in the class curriculum.

The individual and Theodore sat down at one of the tables, facing each other.

“Guess what?” the individual happily prompted. Their legs kicked up and down in excitement.

Theodore waited.

“I finally finished this story I’ve been working on!”

“What’s it about?”

“Here.” The individual wiggled all their fingers with a little pizzazz. Pages and pages of text fluttered out, gently landing on Theodore’s lap in one perfect stack. At the very top of the stack, in black bold-faced letters on white, the title read, The Snow Falls, the Sun Shines, the Rain Pours, and the Wind Blows.

“This title blows. Why is it so long?”

“Heyyyyy.” The individual pouted.

Theodore flipped to the first page. Then, the second. Then, the third, the fourth, and the fifth.

The story talked about a woman who became invisible and conquered the world. Through wits and ingenuity, she found ways to change the world into one big family where everyone cared about each other. She made it so people resolved their differences by talking it out, listening to what others had to say. The world became a place where families would never abandon each other. The world became a place filled with love and hope.

Theodore rejoiced. There was no doubt that this was her story. He looked up, exclaiming, “This is--” only to stop mid sentence. The individual had vanished. In their absence, a piece of binder paper rested on the table. He tenderly picked it up. In italics, it read:

Good things never last! It’s time to say goodbye. I know you will make an awesome and fun teacher and meet a lot of new, awesome and fun students. Because that’s what we were. Awesome and fun! Goodbye, Teddy.

A painter, a dancer, a sculptor, a writer, an artist, she was everything to him. Words could not describe how much he missed her. In his sadness, he managed to mouth, “Goodbye,” before his departure.

Seven days passed. Theodore spent that time studying and preparing for his job while sleet evaporated from the rooftops and snow melted away from the pavement. He now carried a box full of toys he had unearthed from his cramped closet, walking across Gillette’s campus from the parking lot, navigating through an ocean of kids. Some gave him odd glances but most of them minded their own business, having more interesting things to attend to.

After a couple of minutes of backbreaking labor, Theodore gladly set his heavy box down onto a table. The door to his classroom had been unlocked. Arranged before him were his requests from the day prior. He found his old classroom as it was with the long tables and all, although in a new room. He also found new installations of a microwave and a refrigerator in case his students wanted to bring food.

Unpacking a Newton’s cradle, a perpetual motion marble machine, a Klein bottle, a CMY cube, and more, he adequately spaced out each novelty on a counter for those who wanted to play. He proceeded to disinfect the surfaces with windex and clorox, making sure everything shined squeaky clean. After checking and checking some more, the classroom looked perfect, greeting all those who visited it in its simplistic modesty.

Theodore exhaled. He took a seat, thinking about all the times he had taught from seven years ago. The most important thing is to have fun. He couldn’t help but think of her again.

The prison siren of a bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. The minutes ticked by as the fifth period started. Theodore debated on what he should do. Should he go on his laptop while he waited? Should he try to anticipate his next student, guessing what they were like or what subject they might need help with?

Five minutes. Ten minutes. Fifteen minutes. Theodore knew, as a tutor, that his students were on a come-and-go basis.

Eventually, half an hour slipped by. Sitting there, wondering where exactly everyone was, and how quiet it had become, a knock came from the door.