HARPER
It’s a sweet relief to see her pause, unfurling slowly like a tentative blossom. Harper waits her out, patient as ever, until her red-rimmed eyes find his once more. Then he offers her an encouraging smile, keeping his body language loose and unobtrusive. The hope in her expression is heartbreaking, but with how she has begun to doubt everyone around her it’s not exactly unexpected either, and Harper can’t conceive of being offended by her skepticism.
“It would be my pleasure,” he assures, accentuating the surety with a nod of his curly head. “I used to teach students regularly. Not something so focused and singular, but it would make me happy to be able to teach someone again.” Proof that it would not only be her to reap the benefits of the sessions, cutting any worries off at the pass with his forthrightness. “And if it makes you feel safer, it’s worth doing regardless.”
“It would be my pleasure,” he assures, accentuating the surety with a nod of his curly head. “I used to teach students regularly. Not something so focused and singular, but it would make me happy to be able to teach someone again.” Proof that it would not only be her to reap the benefits of the sessions, cutting any worries off at the pass with his forthrightness. “And if it makes you feel safer, it’s worth doing regardless.”
if brokenness is a form of art
I must be a poster child prodigy
I must be a poster child prodigy
