![]() ![]() The professor calls on someone in the class, a girl. “What I want to know,” the instructor continues, “is who here believes that real lives- our lives-are influenced by fate?” After a minute or two, I slide down to a seated position. The class titters, she chuckles, and I step back to where I’m able to lean against the wall. But now that we’ve dissected Shakespeare’s use of fate in Romeo and Juliet and Macbeth, I have a question for you, a question regarding your lives.” I walk over to the door and press my ear up against it. Not surprising since the instructor, her voice light and feminine, is speaking on a subject I find fascinating-the role of fate in our lives. I also find I am fully engaged in listening to the lecture. Leaning my head back, I listen to the soothing murmur of voices, thus allowing myself a few minutes to calm down. There’s a classroom a few feet away, in session. Sighing, I step over to a wall and lean back against it. Quickly, I spin around, intent on stomping back and having one last word with the guy. By the time I reach the stairs, I am smacking my hand down on the dark wood railing in anger. He used her for sex, strung her along, and then unceremoniously dumped her with no explanation two weeks ago. That’s why I maintain that she didn’t deserve to be treated the way Professor Walsh treated her. ![]() ![]() She’s unassuming and genuine, loyal to the core. ![]() Not like Haven does.ĭespite all she has going for her, Haven is far from conceited. I just don’t really stand out in a crowd. ![]()
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