Three. I was nineteen. At the University of Pennsylvania, an Ivy League. And I sprinted down the student center, slowing to a brisk walk as I reached the girls’ bathroom. I pushed open the door, and a brunette girl with four-inch heels and a conservative blue dress stood by the sink, scrubbing a stain with wet paper towels, her eyes bloodshot with anger and anxiety.
I LOVE THAT ROSE IS INCLUDED IN THE WAY HE DICTATES TIME IN HIS LIFE
