During a free period at the end of May, I walked from the Dining Hall to the house just outside campus which would become my residence in August. The air had lost most of its spring luster; the close of another school year was imminent. Standing on the porch that I knew would become my porch, I fished the cell phone from my messenger bag and checked the time. 11:55. I walked down the steps, turned right, then left, and headed across campus. When I arrived at the door of the Caldwell Writing Center, I checked the cell phone again. 12:05.
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