teachers pet - lrh

forgotten wallets.

Professor Hemmings digs into his briefcase to pull out his newspaper for the day and shoots me a smile.

"About to get started."

I can't help but smile as well as I say, "It's pretty easy today, shouldn't take you too long."

He looks to me amused, "You've done it?"

"Wouldn't be here if I didn't," I say giving him a look.

He nods respectfully before saying, "That's right, you did say you do it every morning."

"Same morning routine," I say. "Wake up, do my crossword, meet Calum for coffee, go to class and then do whatever I want with the day."

Professor Hemmings follows along as he nods his head slowly. I've always been about routines. It's the only way to make sure I accomplish things during the day. I need a full day everyday I wake up. Sleeping in was never an option for me.

"Well, I won't keep you any longer then," Professor Hemmings says simply as he gives me one last curt nod of his head. "Enjoy your coffee."

"Thank you again for buying it," I say shooting him a genuine smile.

"Anytime Addison," he says to me, his voice deeper than I'd ever expect it to be.

With that, I shoot him one last smile before taking a seat at the same table Calum and I had sat at the other day. I place my coffee down and get up only to go look for my book. Luckily, it's in the same exact spot I had left it yesterday and hasn't been touched.

I pick it up and bring it back to my table to see Professor Hemmings is in his same exact spot as well. He uses the same pen he used yesterday to fill his crossword puzzle as his glasses rest low on his nose.

I wonder what his story is. Sure he looks old, but he doesn't look that old. He can't be much older than myself. How did he get a job with the university? Did he go here? Is he married?

I guess those are answers I'll never get. He seems private. But then again, he doesn't seem too different from myself. Am I private?

I try to push the thoughts out of my head, convincing myself that it's really none of my business. This is my professor I'm thinking about. His personal life is none of my concern.

Then why am I so curious?

Taking a sip from my coffee, I open the book and am immediately met with The book begins by explaining the author, a man from New Orleans who had died at the age of 60. Before he passed, he released several different books that make me raise my eyebrows in amusement. I had always liked writing, but I never really did much with it.

I looked forward to the writing assignments we had to do in class and always wrote a lot more than what was required. I think that's mostly because I'm an opinionated person. I have a lot to say about who and what I come in contact with. Not necessarily in a negative manner, but more so a commentary way. I'm an observer and I like to pick up on every little detail.

My mom always recommend I put my words into short stories or poems or songs, but I never thought too much into it. I convinced myself that I didn't have time to do that or I wouldn't be any good. However, the idea always intrigued me.

I admire people who make a living by sharing with the world their thoughts. They articulate their thoughts into such beautiful works of writing and I think that's why I love to read so much. It's as if it's a world I want to be a part of.

Flipping the page, I scan over the acknowledgements to try and get a better understanding of the story. He explains to the readers that all of his information he received is either from official records or direct interviews. He even tells us how he feels it is unnecessary to thank every single person he interviewed because all of their names are in the book. But he did make sure to give a special shout out to people who helped more than others.