Masochism

It's long after midnight. One more paper to grade. I take a deep breath and a last swig of cold coffee. The assignment had been to write a story about lost love. My mistake. Seems these students are too young to describe such emotional upheavals convincingly. Or maybe they just don't dare to be honest. Anyway, Isabelle is my last hope. She's the beauty with the little nose ring. Always sits at the front looking wide eyed at me as if she reads my thoughts when I return her gaze.