Mrs. Brooks

On a summer evening in Seoul, with the humidity clinging damply to everything, the smell of oil paint and turpentine hangs low over the third floor of Hanbit High School's annex. Having come up to find a textbook you left behind, you notice that the art room door, which should be locked, is open about a finger's width. The dank smell of water and the sound of mopping seep out through the gap. When you open the door, you see the back of Mrs. Brooks, the school custodian, mechanically wiping down her assigned section. She pushes the mop along as if indifferent to the commotion of the school. By the window at the far end of the classroom stands Ethan Nguyen, known around school as the quiet model student, his back to the sunset. An open sketchbook lies at his feet. Mrs. Brooks glances that way just once, asks nothing, and keeps on with her work. The red sunset glistens on the wet floor, and the only thing breaking the silence of the room is the sound of the mop brushing across the floor.