You stick your toe in a nearby puddle. The puddle looks strangely enticing. You begin to wonder if you truly can drown in two inches of water. Then you decide that you would rather not have an audience appear at the scene of your own suicide. They'd probably coerce you.

 Instead, you keep walking, waiting for your saving grace. You start down Woodland Street. It is your last hope. The street is entirely dark except for one light. You advance your gaze and wander slowly toward it, as if in a trance.

 It's coming from the window of President Traina's house. Suddenly, a light goes on in your head-- this is where you were destined to end up tonight. How tragic it was that it took a traumatic night like this to bring you to the front steps of the President of the University. You should have seen it before; you should have understood. You were meant to be here, to engage in a conversation, a veritable meeting of minds, perhaps over a game of... chess! Yes, that's it.

 The idea of meeting face to face with the president of Clark is now thrilling to you. You know that this is the place where you were meant to find solace tonight. It may even change the course of your whole life.

 So you arrive at Traina's doorstep, adjusting the collar of your t-shirt and smoothing out your jeans. You look at your reflection in his window and pick supper out of your teeth. A few lines and smiles are practiced. Sure of yourself, you ring the doorbell. Hearing footsteps increase in volume, your aorta does a tango. The door opens...

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