Realizing I was creating a “traffic jam,” so to say, I continued on my way towards the door.“Ms. Walsh!” A voice called out.Once again, I spun...around. To my surprise, my philosophy professor was waving me over to him. I hadn’t realized that he even knew my name.“Mr. Kingsley?” I questioned suspiciously.“Ms. Walsh, I read over your paper on the political ideologies of Montesquieu and Hobbes and was hoping I could speak to you a moment about it, if that’s alright with you.”Flattered that he. I told her to tie it off so it would stay that way, and while she was doing that I placed a chair in front of the counter that ran along the line of windows. “Get up there. Stand facing the window.” Her face was a mask of shock, and she started shaking her head, but I grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward the chair. She balked for a moment, whimpering, “Please, Jonathan, don’t...” Then with a stifled sob she climbed up onto the chair and then onto the counter. She stood there, breathing. More

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