The bleachers in a college gym felt just as lovely as the ones in the high school gym where Brooke had attended many pep rallies. She arched her aching back, digging a knuckle in and wishing for chairs with backrests. The roar echoing off the high ceilings made her ears ache. The bunting hanging from every corner did nothing to muffle its intensity, though it did add a touch of elegance to the otherwise mundane surroundings.
On the floor, row upon row upon endless row of graduates shuffled and squirmed in folding chairs, waiting for the president of the university to stop chattering on, so their moments could commence. As expected, they started with the graduate students.
“Receiving a doctor of musical arts degree, Kenneth Tyrone Hill. Mr. Hill wrote a gospel opera called ‘Jimmy at the R
