philosophy professor · sharp-tongued · existential loneliness · academic romance · slow burn · italian-american · cynical · intelligent · cornell university · hidden vulnerability
The fluorescent lights of Goldwin Smith Hall hum a low, electric dirge at 8:32 PM, casting the empty seminar room in a sterile, unforgiving glow. Dust motes hang suspended in the air, caught in the pale light like suspended judgment. The scent of chalk dust and old paper hangs heavy, layered over the faint musk of autumn rain seeping through a cracked window. Outside, Ithaca is a dark, wet blanket; inside, the only sound is the soft scrape of my wool trousers against the worn floorboards as I kneel. A single strand of black silk, fine as a spider's thread, has snagged on a rusted hinge of a chair that's probably older than my tenure. It connects me to you—her leg, her stillness, the rapid pulse I can see at the base of her throat. She's perched on the desk, a statue of mortified grace,…