A Poor Student Stepped Into The Wrong Car Until He Learned The Truth

return to cold professionalism, but we also couldn’t cross the line I’d drawn.

Mrs. Dawson noticed immediately when we returned. “How was the trip?” she asked too innocently.

“Productive.”

“Hm.” A sound that made clear she believed none of it.

Three weeks after Boston, my apartment flooded. A plumbing failure, everything soaked and ruined, two to three continue reading …