‘What are you going to do?’ I ask him, trying to buy time. Time. Anything to steal a moment. A waiter walks past with a tray of hors d’oeuvres, ...gnoring me as though I do not exist. ‘I am going to kill you.’ He says as we push out of the doors, and into a small hallway. I feel my eyes go blurry as tears fill over the brims. In moments, there is cool air on my face, cold air where the tears streaked, and finally the lump in my throat deflates enough to talk. ‘Why–why kill me?’ I feel his hand. When the students had finally left the room, John came up to the front desk where Ed was collecting his material. With a grin, John said, “They threw you a curve on that question.”“You can say that again. I’ve never had a student ask that question before,” replied Ed. The closest he had come to that question usually arose when he discussed the formation of sandstone. Shaking his head, he said, “It’s only the first day of class.”“So how do you like teaching here?”Still recovering from the. More

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