Professor EE 7

The door opened to reveal a heavy man carrying a heavy sack—a Scroogey sort of Santa with muttonchops.

"Dr. Editor?" I squeaked.

"Shut up." He left the sack on the floor and checked his roster. "Creative Writing, graduate level, one student. You're Rachel?"

I nodded.

"You've got an hour to write about the contents of this sack, starting—" He looked at the clock, and I scrambled for a pen and paper. "Now." He upended it, and a person tumbled out.

I stood up in my seat, my eyes wide. "