The chill air felt refreshing. Made the cabin’s warmth even more welcome. Lovely company. Great coffee. Some kind of sweetish coffee cake. Inquiries...about my ankle.Honeymoons are supposed to end eventually. As we loaded up into the plane to return to Alabama, I considered the man whose arm was around me. As he helped me buckle my seatbelt and arrange things in the cabin, I mused. Boy, how fast things turned around. Only a few weeks ago I was a miserable human being, selling myself in truckstops. If I didn’t want to get hit on, I should move to a table. I laughed that off and Red continued to chat me up. We got past small talk about placement and classes and he persisted. I looked like someone who did the “Hall” – so was I? I didn’t know what that meant, so he explained over the loud music. The Hall was an underground connector between the Student Union Building and the school’s administrative offices. About a 100 yards long, with dark nooks and doorways along its length. It was the one. More

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