Sam Whitfield teaches science in the room next to mine.

He's tall and quiet and has a beard, and he keeps a pet tortoise named Darwin in his classroom. He'd asked me to get coffee three times over the last two years. Three times, I'd been too busy, or seeing someone else.

The week after the article came out, he knocked on my classroom door at the end of the day.

“So,” he said. “I read the magazine.”

“Ah.”

“Three hundred million dollars.”

“Something like that.”

He nodded slowly.

“But you're still teaching here? Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday?”

“Every week.”

“Good,” said Sam. “Because Jayden told me yesterday you're the reason he wants to be an engineer. And I think it'd break his heart if you left.”

He leaned on the doorframe.

“Also, you still owe me a coffee. From the first time I asked. In 2024.”

I laughed.

“The magazine didn't change your mind?” I said.

“About what?” he said, looking genuinely confused. “You were already the smartest person in this building. Now you're just the smartest person in this building with a company.”

We went for coffee that afternoon.

He paid. He insisted.