Hugh's old drawing teacher used to have one, and though it had been ten years since he'd taken the woman's class, I could suddenly recall him talking about it. "If I had a skeleton like Minerva's . . . ," he used to say. I don't remember the rest of the sentence, as I'd always been sidetracked by the teacher's name, Minerva. Sounds like a witch.
The narrator reflects on a past experience with Hugh's drawing teacher, who had a particular fascination with skeletons. This memory resurfaces after a decade, reminding the narrator of an intriguing conversation about art and anatomy. Hugh had quoted the teacher, hinting at a deeper connection to the subject.
The name of the teacher, Minerva, strikes the narrator as peculiar, evoking thoughts of witchcraft and mysticism. This perception distracts from the actual content of the conversation but highlights the lasting impression the teacher's name made. This playful take on memory invites readers to consider how names and people can linger in our minds long after the details fade.
