The front hall was quiet, which was good. At this hour of the night, residents were supposed to be tucked in their dorms, drifting to sleep or cramming in that last bit of information before a test tomorrow. Dan Fisher smiled. He hoped that some of those studious students were his. They had just finished reading the story of Gilgamesh and he had a test for them tomorrow. Well, they thought it was a test. What he really had planned was for them to come in and pick some universal theme from Gilgamesh and relate it back to real life. Every year he was surprised by some of the topics that his student's picked. Every year he was met with new thrills. The joys of being an English Teacher.

The lights were off. Even he was not supposed to be here, but his work kept him busy. There were things he needed to take care of before he left for good. It was a collection of Bell Work that kept his time occupied tonight. He'd skimmed over a good 200 collections of thoughts for each day, counting all the entries to make sure a reasonable amount of text was placed in each box. Papers graded, he'd taken care to enter each grade into the computer, giving the students their 20 points where their 20 points were due, and reducing points where their efforts just hadn't been what he required. Some students were failing. Others were acing his class. It wasn't the way he was teaching, it was the lack of motivation, something Dan strove to correct.

His arms were folded as he paused in front of the trophy cases. He stared through the glass, picking out one of the names. He recognized one of his former students and briefly his mind floated back to one of the essays she had written. She was just as much a star athlete as she was a charming young girl with a beautiful spirit. Every word she put on paper held a certain magnificence to it that left him waiting for her next assignment. He would have loved to have her in a class specifically for writing, her and numerous other students who wasted away their talents, never properly cultivating them for the world...

Fisher's mind wandered. It was no use in dwelling on things that he long for, but could not change. He lingered longer, allowing pictures and visual things trigger the senses in his mind. He pondered as he moved, pacing across red tiles and things he couldn't quiet put his finger on. Biding his time until sleep settled in and called him back to his home where he could rest until he had to return and work. Until that little essay of his that would unveil an new round of brilliant writers and ideas.