The afternoon sun streamed lazily through the tall glass windows of the campus library. Dust particles floated in golden light, and the faint scent of old paper filled the air. Sierra sat at a corner table surrounded by stacks of books, her laptop open, her notes scattered in soft chaos.
She was supposed to be finishing her assignment on communication ethics, but her focus kept slipping. Every few minutes, her mind wandered back to Professor Blackwood's words earlier that day.
Don't hesitate to challenge ideas—even mine.
She smiled faintly to herself. He had said it with such quiet certainty that it felt less like advice and more like… encouragement. Real, personal encouragement.
Her fingers tapped against her notebook absentmindedly. "I overthink too much," she whispered under her breath, rereading the same paragraph for the fifth time.
"Maybe that's because you care about getting things right," a voice said behind her.
Sierra froze. Her heart jumped into her throat. Slowly, she turned—and there he was.
Professor Blackwood.
He stood just a few feet away, holding a folder and a cup of coffee, his expression calm but his eyes faintly curious. The sight of him in the quiet library made her breath hitch.
"P-Professor," she stammered, scrambling to sit straighter. "I—uh—I was just—"
He gestured lightly toward the empty chair across from her. "Mind if I sit?"
"Oh! Of course, yes—please," she said quickly, closing her notebook just to stop fidgeting with it.
He sat down, placing his folder on the table. For a few moments, silence stretched between them. Only the soft hum of the library and the turning of distant pages filled the air.
"You're working on the essay, I assume?" he asked finally, glancing at her open laptop screen.
"Yes, sir. I mean, Professor," Sierra replied, her words tumbling out. "I wanted to finish the analysis before the weekend so I can edit it later. But I keep getting… distracted."
His lips twitched slightly. "Distraction is common. Especially when you're passionate about something."
She smiled faintly. "I guess. Sometimes I just think too hard about making everything perfect."
He leaned back slightly, his gaze thoughtful. "Perfection isn't always the goal. Clarity is. Honesty. When you write, don't aim to sound flawless—aim to sound real."
Sierra nodded, his words settling deep in her chest. "That's… actually really helpful. Thank you."
He gave a small nod in return. "You have a natural curiosity, Sierra. Don't let fear silence that. The world needs more voices that question, not fewer."
For a moment, neither of them moved. His words hung softly in the air, and she felt her pulse quicken—not out of nervousness this time, but something else. Something warmer.
"I… I really like your class," she admitted quietly, her fingers brushing the edge of her notebook. "You make it easy to understand things that used to feel confusing."
He looked at her then—really looked. His eyes were gentle, steady, and unreadable. "I'm glad to hear that," he said softly. "That's what teaching should be. Clarity, not confusion."
Their gazes lingered for a moment longer than they should have. Sierra felt the air shift slightly, heavier somehow, yet calm.
She quickly looked back down, her cheeks warming. "Sorry," she murmured. "I probably talk too much."
"Not at all," he replied. "Conversation is the best sign of understanding. Silence doesn't always mean focus—it can mean fear."
Sierra tilted her head slightly, smiling. "Then I guess I'll keep talking."
His eyes softened. "I'd expect nothing less from you."
Another small silence passed, comfortable this time. Sierra's heartbeat slowed, her nerves easing just a little. He reached for his coffee, and as he took a sip, his eyes drifted momentarily to her notebook—the one with her name written neatly across the cover.
"You've got good organization," he remarked quietly. "Color-coded notes, clear margins… you remind me of how I was at your age."
She brightened. "Really? You used to color-code too?"
A small laugh escaped him—low, genuine. "Yes. Though I'd never admit that to anyone else."
Sierra grinned, delighted by the small secret. "Your secret's safe with me, Professor."
Their laughter was soft, but it felt like it echoed in the stillness of the library. For the first time, she saw a side of him that wasn't distant or formal—something almost human, almost warm.
As the conversation faded into quiet again, Professor Blackwood stood, gathering his folder. "Don't stay too late," he said gently. "The mind works best when it rests."
Sierra nodded. "I will. And… thank you, again. For the advice."
He gave her one last look—a brief, unreadable glance that made her chest tighten. "Good evening, Sierra."
Then he turned and walked away, his footsteps fading softly between the shelves.
She sat there for a long time after he left, her pen resting in her hand but unmoving. She should've been writing her essay, but instead, her thoughts replayed every word, every look, every soft exchange.
Something about him stayed with her—like a quiet echo she couldn't ignore.
And somewhere down the long hallway, Professor Blackwood paused briefly before exiting the library, exhaling softly as though trying to clear his thoughts. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake the image of her smile beneath that golden library light.