In a town that that Ronald Reagan and countless wealthy CEOs called home, the university seemed like an asylum run by the inmates. Thirty years later, Bank of America ATMs dot the campus. A psychology student with whom we talked had never heard about nude beaches or burning banks. If life is a highway, today was a pothole. We've been making the tours during the daytime, while Lauren's spent her evenings cramming in high school assignments.
Equations demand to be solved.
Hemingway and Melville beg for comparative analysis. During the night, someone broke out the rear window of our rental car. They didn't take our jackets. They didn't take our CDs. They only took Lauren's oversized blue backpack, crammed full of textbooks, notebooks, a calculator, a tape recorder and her wallet.