"Carroway wasn't gone yet."
The walk from the athletic center to William L. Harkness Hall took exactly twelve minutes if Silver cut through Cross Campus. She'd timed it perfectly to slide into her Psychology of Competition seminar right before Professor Williams closed the door. Small classes at Yale didn't tolerate lateness, especially not this one, with its mix of athletes and pre-meds all trying to understand what drove people to push themselves past breaking.
She pulled open the heavy wooden door, the familiar smell of old building and radiator heat hitting her immediately. The scent reminded her of every academic building at Yale: century-old wood, fresh paint over ancient plaster, and the faint mustiness that came from New Haven winters. Twenty chairs arranged in a circle, most already filled. She was scanning for an empty seat when she saw him.
Carroway.
