She smiled.
Then noticed something inside the wooden frame.
A tiny carved mark.
Three initials.
Her initials.
And the date from that day decades earlier.
Someone had preserved them when renovating.
She did not know who.
She stood there for a long time.
Then heard the door open.
A facilities worker entered pushing a cart.
Young man.
Maybe nineteen.
He froze.
"Sorry."
"No."
She smiled.
"I was leaving."
He recognized her.
His eyes widened.
"Professor?"
"Retired."
"Still Professor."
She laughed.
"Fair."
He looked toward the board.
Then at her.
"My mom showed me your video."
She groaned.
"Of course."
He smiled.
"I work here while studying engineering."
"Good."
He hesitated.
"Can I ask something?"
"One."
"Did you really win fifty thousand?"
She smiled.
"Yes."
"That's crazy."
"It paid rent."
He laughed.
Then asked:
"Was the Professor really that bad?"
The mathematician looked around the hall.
Memory.
Pain.
Time.
"He did something very bad."
"That's not the same as being only bad."
The young man looked confused.
She continued:
"People are more dangerous when we imagine wrongdoing belongs only to monsters."
"Ordinary talented people can justify terrible choices."
"Remember that."
He nodded slowly.
Then looked at the cart.
"I should clean."
She stepped aside.
"Don't let me interfere with your work."