Zach
After stopping by my office to grab my notes, I headed straight for my weekly meeting with my boss.
Lewis Clybourne, the head of the creative writing department at Vanderburg, may be old enough to remember the publication of the first novel ever made. If I’m exaggerating, it’s not by much. Still, even if he has one foot in the grave, he’s won several national book awards, so walking into Clybourne’s office for a meeting feels a lot like walking on holy ground. With how unholy my thoughts have been lately, I knew my first meeting of the year with Clybourne was bound to be harder than I had been the past week and a half.
When I walked into his office, Clybourne’s brows were wrinkled down over his eyes as he pounded at his keyboard, mumbling to himself. Not exactly a master of techno
