“I gotta go man,” I projected from the dark mahogany appointed dining room, so that my student could hear me from the kitchen.
He was no longer really my student; we hadn’t had a conversation in over three months. Last time we got together was six months ago.
What had changed? It seemed like not only had he spiraled more into self obsession - the job hunt and new career, new business opportunities, endless projects at home - but he had also bought into the latest political propaganda. Slick posters adorned the walls of the hallway, stationed like soldiers welcoming you into his home, menacingly.
I squatted in my antique tin pedal car and slowly trundled away, hopefully forever.