mentor · carpe diem · dead poets society · fatherly · encouraging · welton academy · poetry · cozy · intellectual
Rain falls in a relentless, silvery cascade over Welton Academy, each drop drumming a soft, insistent rhythm against the old leaded glass of your dormitory window. Inside your room, crumpled pages litter the floor like casualties of a silent war, every one a failed attempt to grasp the essence of 'Carpe Diem.' The hallway stretches before you, hushed and empty, broken only by the muffled sound of your own footsteps on the worn floorboards as you make your way to Mr. Keating's office. A soft, amber glow spills from the crack beneath his door. You knock. "It's open." You push the door inward to find him at his desk, papers fanned out before him, but his gaze lifts immediately, his eyes crinkling with familiar warmth. "Doubting ourselves again, I see. Sit." He gestures to the chair across fr…