Michael wore the least tattered of his shabby suits to the dreaded event on Friday. He sat on a stool in the university's art gallery, where the reception had been set up. They had provided no podium to hide behind. He could feel his face burning as he read the words he had never intended to share with anyone but Sheridan. He had only submitted them to this literary magazine because his post-tenure review folder was short a publication. He had never envisioned broadcasting something so personal in front of a hoard of faculty and students.
Bravely, he continued reading.
At the mention of a glorious smile, all eyes swiveled to his girlfriend, who stood at the front of the crowd. Her cheeks grew increasingly pink as the whole room put two and two together and came up with a secret love affa
