I nodded, picking up my bag. At the door, I paused.
"Sometimes," she said quietly, "the empty classroom is the only place I feel like I can breathe."
Fair point.
Instead, I gathered my courage—the kind that only exists at seventeen, reckless and sweet—and stood up. My chair scraped the floor. She flinched slightly, but didn't step back as I approached.
I looked down at my desk. The wood grain had a scar—a small gouge from a pen knife. I traced it with my thumb. "Why do you stay so late, Sensei? Everyone else left an hour ago."
Tomorrow, I decided, I would stay after anyway. End of Chapter 2.