Hampden College, Vermont, 1980.

Dirty grand pianos, stacked books, empty coffee cups scattered on desks.

It’s always been a mess.

It’s autumn in Vermont — windy, cold, comforting.

Tall, pale trees with vibrant leaves match Francis, and your excuse to keep your eyes on him is so you don't lose him in the leaves.

It’s your excuse to keep your arm linked with his.

You two are sharing a cigarette — Lucky Strikes — as you walk down one of the paths in the campus woods.

It’s almost metaphoric — the two of you together like this.

Because God forbid Bunny saw you two like this — arm and arm, so intimately close and unabashedly linked.

It’s a secret just for you two. Simply yours.