The morning of Dr. Osei's visit arrived cool and grey, a marine layer pressing against the hills, softening the edges of the city. Aaron stood at the window of his study, the weaving a quiet presence at his back, and watched the fog drift across the lake. The day felt different from the ones before it — not heavier, but more deliberate, as though the hours ahead had been set aside for something that required his full attention.
He had read everything Dr. Osei had published that he could find. Fourteen papers, three book chapters, and a monograph on the ethics of cultural heritage funding in post-colonial contexts. She wrote with a clarity that he admired — no academic excess, no hiding behind jargon. She stated her positions plainly and supported them with evidence. And her positions, he had come to understand, aligned more closely with his own instincts than he had expected.
