Rector Hoffmann finally moved to the desk and sat, folding his hands now like this was the serious part. “This has nothing to do with performance.”
Hans exhaled slowly. His heart was already racing ahead, cataloging disasters. Funding cut? A complaint? Some forgotten form?
“The English Department,” Hoffmann continued, “is being merged into a broader Foreign Languages faculty.”
Hans frowned. “Merged?”
“Yes, structural reorganization. The university is merging departments. Fewer separate chairs. Fewer courses overall.”
Hans felt a hollow open in his chest—not pain, exactly, just absence. “And my position?”
“Is being eliminated.”
There it was. Clean. Administrative. Bloodless.
“So I’m not… fired,” Hans said carefully.
“No,” Rector Hoffmann said quickly. “Absolutely not. Your contract is simply ending as scheduled.”
Hans nodded because nodding was easier than speaking. His mind raced backward through his last lecture, his syllabus drafts, the office plant he’d finally managed not to kill. He’d been planning for the next year in advance.
“I assumed.” Hans paused. “This meeting was for renewal.”
Hoffmann’s expression softened. “I suspected you might.”
Hans looked away, pretending to study the papers on the desk.
“I’m very sorry,” Rector Hoffmann said. “Truly. If it were up to academic merit alone, this would be a very different conversation.”
Hans almost laughed. Almost.
“So that’s it,” Hans said. “December.”
“Yes.”
A pause stretched between them, thick and awkward.
Then Hoffmann reached for a folder. “I want you to know—we will provide you with an exceptional reference. I will ensure it reflects the full scope of your abilities. Teaching, research, professionalism—on all levels.”
Hans swallowed. Praise felt strange now, like receiving compliments at a breakup.
“I have no doubt,” Rector Hoffmann continued, “that another university will be fortunate to have you.”
Another university. Another city. Another set of hallways to memorize.
“Thank you,” Hans said.
Rector Hoffmann stood. “Again, I’m deeply sorry.”
Hans stood too, his legs moving on autopilot. They shook hands. Rector Hoffmann’s grip was firm, sincere, regretful. The kind of handshake that saidthis is unfairwithout sayingthis is my fault.
When Hans stepped back into the corridor, the building looked exactly the same as it had an hour earlier. Students laughed somewhere. A door slammed. Life, apparently, had not received the memo.
He strolled, stunned, his thoughts looping uselessly.
Position eliminated.
Structural reorganization.
