A year and a half ago, or so, my office at the college where I teach was moved. The department's secretary provided me with boxes for my books and files and a key.
I haven't spent much time there. My name isn't even on the door. I took most of my books home, especially my book of poetry signed by Father Cardenal.
On the door there is a cork board. There's a piece of lined yellow paper with the words "Keith Amarind's Office" written in pencil tacked on the board. There's also a silver crucifix hanging from a pin.
On the desk there's a lamp. It's usually left on when I come in to teach at night and the rest of the offices are dark. I wonder who leaves it lit.
There's a framed picture of George Donohue on the top shelf of the book case.
I remember him fondly. He had a heart attack and passed away on the first day of the semester in that same office. Keith found him there.
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