"was that where you lived with him at the end?"
"yes."
"it looks nice."
"it was."
"do you wish you could have stayed there?"
"no."
"why not?"
"i could never have lived there without him. i would just have lain awake at night waiting for him to come home. i would have had to throw away all the eggs, because he was the only one who ate them, but i would have forgetten not to buy them. i would have forgetten that he didn't exist, all the time. i would have gotten angry because the light in the bathroom was turned off, because i used to get so annoyed with him for always leaving it on. i would have saved all his shoes, all his shirts, and i would have been angry with the spring and hated flowers when they appeared because they drowned out the last smells of him. i would have always laid the table for two on the balcony. i would have had to eat all the popcorn myself. i would never have been able to pick a film."
"i don't know anything about art."
"me neither."
"but i don't think the most important thing for an artist is being able to draw, but having something to say."
"are you going to be a teacher again when you get home?"
"i don't think so."
"shame."
"why?"
"you were probably good at it."
"what do you base that on?"
"you weren't the one that student was trying to stab. you got hurt trying to protect someone else. all the teachers i've ever met would have run away."
"it isn't a teacher's job to protect their students," he mumbles, not that he believes that, but because he heard a colleague say it once.
"yes it is."