I had coffee with Professor Davies today. Again. Our monthly "meet-the-new-hires" thing. My department, it's… not huge, maybe 18 professors total. So, new hires are a big deal. He's 72. Still teaching two classes, editing that one journal, and he still brings those little shortbread cookies wrapped in plastic film – the ones from the fancy bakery downtown, costs like five bucks for two. He always offers me one. I never take it. Today, his shirt was kinda crumpled, like he’d slept in it. Or maybe just pulled it out of a basket. My mom does that now. It’s hard to tell from 2000 miles away. Her last call, she asked if I'd gotten the car serviced. I told her I hadn't. Guilt, 24/7. Anyway, Professor Davies. He was trying, bless his heart. Asked me about my tenure-track research, said something about "interdisciplinary intersections" – his words, not mine. I just mumbled about my data sets, the 2018-2022 trends. He actually listened, nodded. Then the other new colleagues started arriving. Three of them, all in their late 20s, early 30s. Super sharp, just out of their PhDs, all the buzzwords. "My grant proposal for quantum computing and medieval literature is getting a lot of traction," one said. "Oh, mine too, the AI ethics in Renaissance art project just got a shout-out in *Nature*," another chimed in. Professor Davies tried to pivot back. "Dr. Davies here has some fascinating work on post-war European economics," he offered. Silence. Crickets. Then another one of them, the quantum computing guy, just goes, "Yeah, but have you seen Dr. Anya Sharma's paper on algorithmic bias in 18th-century portraiture? Blew my mind." It was like he wasn’t even there. It just… happens. Every time. He tries. They just talk over him, around him. About each other, about their shiny new things. He kinda deflates. Like a balloon with a slow leak. No big bang, just… a quiet shrinkage. I pretended to check my phone, probably for the fifth time. My mom's message, "Did you remember to take out the trash, honey?" It's 10 AM her time. She’s already forgotten she asked me yesterday. I still haven't called her back. I watched Professor Davies sip his lukewarm coffee. He didn't even touch the shortbread today. Is that what happens? You get old, and you just… disappear while you’re still sitting there? You become a ghost in your own department. Dios mío. What a thought.