Marcie
The sun shines down on my shoulders as I march along the path to class the morning after my date with Ben. Bright and warm. Just like I’m going to be.
Because he’s going to be in class today.
After weeks of avoiding the photography syllabus like it’s a snake, I finally took a look last night. Each Ben-class is marked with a little asterisk, like an inescapable black hole.
I then checked Professor Washington’s dictatorial attendance policy. “Expedition” classes, which all of Ben’s are, can only be missed once a semester before you just fail.
So, I adjust my backpack and practice my smile. I’m totally, completely normal. I went on a bad first date last night. Half the campus probably did. And at least half of those people have to face their bad-date-ee in class today. Statistical
