Her computer keeps feeding her messages. An image trembles on the screen then disappears. Nobody here can tell her. The techies treat it casually as shed once treated Adam or her own history. She brings in yardsale lamps with maps around their bases.
Lights are soft brown moons here cats eyes stare from wallboard.
Her owls drop feathers on industrial gray carpet. She could take off her clothes here. But she never does. Once she spilled coffee down computers innards. Her students are mostly earnest boys from other countries.