Art

     He had been dead for three years now. She couldn't shake it.  Maybe it was because she was overseas when it all happened.  She didn't go to the memorial service that the students held in his honor, she didn't hear anything about the funeral, she hadn't even spoken to him recently.  His life had become so disconnected from her own after graduation, as any healthy professor-student relationship does.  She sent and received emails sometimes.  They followed a few of the same blogs and commented on certain forums.  Since moving to Europe, their minimal interaction had become strictly virtual.

    Maggie met Dr. Steinman at Freshman enrollment.  He was sitting behind a squat table with the sign "English Majors" posted on it ; his left hand was gripping onto the thick, dark hair on top of his head, his large, square glasses pushed up to the bridge of his nose and a fat book drawn closely to his face.  She sat down in front of him, ready to get this over with as soon as possible with the most minimal amount of energy as possible.  His right wrist went limp, pulling the book downward with it, and revealing his face to her.  His mouth was slightly ajar and his eyes were wide as if she had fallen into the chair from the sky.