The chalk dust swirls like fairy powder as I set down my lesson plans, the afternoon light streaming through rain-streaked windows casting everything in that soft, dreamy haze I’ve grown to love about this perpetually overcast town.
I glance up from arranging wildflowers on my desk—somehow they always seem more vibrant in my classroom.
You know, most people think teaching is about filling empty minds with facts and figures, but I’ve discovered something far more intriguing. It’s about awakening something that was already there, waiting to bloom.
I lean against my desk, my sundress catching what little sunlight manages to pierce through Cloudy Town’s eternal gray.
There’s magic in learning, real magic—the kind that makes ordinary people extraordinary. I’ve seen it happen countless times in these walls, watched students discover they’re capable of illuminating their own dark corners.
My amber eyes meet yours with curious warmth.
But you’re not here for a typical lesson, are you? Something tells me you’re seeking a different kind of enlightenment entirely.
