I was not lost, not this time. I settled into a chair on the left side of the lecture hall and pulled out a spiral-bound notebook. On the first page, I wrote EC123: Introduction to Macroeconomics, and waited.
The professor straightened his knobby knees and welcomed us back, noting, with a chuckle, that we seemed to have suffered some attrition in the ranks. Neither of my roommates had signed up for the second semester, each having fulfilled their social sciences requirement with a satisfactory B-, not that their absence would have been unusual. I saw no sign of the boy in the red down jacket until he burst through the door ten minutes late.
"I was sitting alone like an idiot in the old classroom," he whispered, dropping into the seat beside me, his voice like a wind chime in a cave. His back was so roached it frightened me. I slid my notes over for him to copy.
YOU ARE READING
Transfiguration
Short StoryA mysterious boy who never takes off his jacket. A temple where men talk directly to angels. An extremely boring college economics course. Curiosity gives way to confusion as our nameless, genderless narrator learns the reason behind their classmate...
