The smell of piss and cheap scotch hung in the air. The juke boxed, cracked and ready to give up its unhappy life played ?Misty?. No one was listening...Across from the bartender, seated in a booth, was a man. He was nondescript but for the long black duster and black engineer’s boots that appeared to wear him, rather then the other way around. In his hand was a pocket watch. Like the jukebox playing ?Misty?, the pocket watch played music too. Like the jukebox, no one listened to the music. First she had a lot of studying to get through. A lot of studying to get through.It was tedious work: reviewing, marking down important tidbits, listing questions she would need to answer. This was relatively easy stuff--it was only the first semester of four before she graduated--but but tiring as well. Every now and then she would glance at the clock: Jon is sitting at his desk, or, Jon is on lunch, or, Maybe Jon is in the bathroom, or, I wish Jon was here. That one a little more frequently. More

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