Right now the moon is rising behind the ridgeline and the campus streetlamps are lit, each casting an X of shadows over the central path. I walk through the gates and find a guy standing by himself in the middle of the court. He’s short, a little plump, and he wears waistcoats and corduroy so hard you have to think he’s making a statement. Oddly flat lenses in round spectacles, so they catch the light and flicker when he turns his head. I guess he has a certain image to maintain. After all, he’s the Dean.
