The History Club’s coffee social ran late and by the time Amy was able to extricate herself from Prior Hall, it was both dark and pouring. She’d brought an umbrella, but she did not relish the walk back to her dorm, even if it was a straight shot down Campus Boulevard. A stiff gust of wind greeted her as soon as she stepped outside, dumping a sheet of rain in her general direction.
“Ew,” she said as the cold dampness soaked through the legs of her jeans.
Both sides of the street were parked up, and for a minute, Amy wondered why. Then she remembered: faculty awards night. Just a few buildings away, Don was probably soaking up the praise for all the grant dollars he brought in. He said he’d thank her if they gave him a chance to speak. Then again, Don said a lot of things. It was always hard to tell with him.

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