Sherry’s best days were behind her when we met. She was pudgy – a ripple above her waist in her dry-cleaning shirt. An attitude that’d been sharpened in arguments and by disappointment. She showed up at work with her hair wet on her back, for the mid-afternoon shift, and she cussed and smoked the way you’d expect from a junior in high school. Those were the impressions of a junior class college boy who thought he could spend his summer reading his way into an editorship with the campus newspaper. I was right about the reading. I was wrong about her. (more…)
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Winding, narrow lanes lead up the hillside to the limestone university buildings. In the fall, students walk along broken sidewalks through shimmering light let through by 100-year-old tree branches, past the old two-story houses overgrown with thick foilage.
This being the first full week of August, the streets will be alive again soon and these houses 50 feet or so off the walking paths will become the havens students imagine them to be, near campus but worlds apart all the same. The proprietors of these dwellings have long since been saved from the pressures of pop quizes, lab experiments gone awry and research papers. (more…)
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