‘Would you like to visit your alma mater?’ The woman knew what the response would be before she heard it. ‘Maybe for a brief while. ... really only have an hour or so to dawdle.’ ‘Great tasks have been accomplished in less time.’ ‘Indeed.’ They walked up the concrete steps through the twin heavy oak doors and down the hallway making idle chat as they closed in on their destination. A brief walk up the stairwell and down another hall stood them. The breeze rustles the trees, scattering stray leaves on the sidewalk. The doorman looks pointedly at me, smiles knowingly at her as we pass, taking the elevator to her floor. The entry hall of her apartment has a series of drawings of women. Most are in the park, sunning on benches, lying on the grass. There is one of me from last summer, wearing the dress that got me the worst leers that first week at work, the one I have never worn to work again. The one that showed my nipples in the air. More

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