Liverpool is a rainy city.
The day I arrived, my shoes were soaked through, and my pants were caked with mud.
The security guard at the back gate of the research institute spotted me dragging my suitcase and stopped me.
"Who're you here for?"
I gave him the name of my advisor's old classmate.
The guard made a call and told me to wait outside the booth.
The awning was too small. Every gust of wind drove the rain straight at me. I hugged the file bag tight, shielding the documents inside.
Half an hour later, the director came down to get me. He was in his forties, wearing a faded lab coat, hair mussed, with a marker still in his hand.
He flipped through my file, then studied my face.
"Nancy Sterling? Your advisor says you can handle the grind."
I nodded.
"I can."
He glanced at my
