She’s usually one of the first to arrive, since her last class is located further down the same corridor. Because nobody’s opened the lecture hall yet, she sits outside and eats the meager dinner she brought, reads a book or does her homework. Those last vestiges of procrastination still haven’t been worked out of her yet.

Jeanine shows up next. “So what did you think?”

“They were okay,” she replies, making a face and thumbing through the book of poetry they were supposed to read for the class tonight. “I read it in an hour.”

“I don’t get this stuff,” Jeanine says. “I liked the last book we had to read. This one…ugh.”

Rajah arrives, and the topic switches to her bridal shower, then to a faculty member with a condescending attitude towards his students. Apparently he doesn’t like “stupid” questions, but then again Rajah doesn’t like conceited instructors, and wasn’t afraid to tell him this to his face, either. The instructor didn’t take this very well.

Then Josh comes, out of breath, hurrying to write up his homework at the last minute, too. Chad sits down next to her and they talk some more about their assigned reading: it sucks. I liked it, but… I can write poetry, but I have trouble reading it, y’know? That’s because poetry’s a self-absorbed exercise, Tim says, joining the conversation. Ouch.

Philipps shows up with the key, and the students who now line both sides of the hall scramble to their feet.

They file through the narrow doors, line up to turn in the assignment for the week, wait for Philipps to introduce the guest writer. He steps up to the podium, shyly greets the assembled students, and says he’s going to read from that same little book of poetry for about thirty minutes. Ye gods! Beside her, Tim groans loud enough for only her to hear. Neither of them are enthusiastic about that idea.

They are the students, and class is about to begin.