By morning, the video is not out but I can’t breathe easily. That video still lives rent-free in my head like a loaded gun with the safety off and whoever is holding it has a steady hand.
I haven’t told Noah yet. I don’t know if I’m protecting him or myself.
The university calls me in before noon. There is no appointment, no warning, just a bland email with no subject line directing me to Room 406B of the admin building.
That’s not a classroom. It’s where they hold hearings, the kind they don’t list on public calendars.
I show up wearing the cleanest dress I can find, no makeup, no jewelry, hair pulled back like I’m trying to apologize with my appearance.
I walk in and see three people waiting, a man in a blue suit who doesn’t smile, a woman with a clipboard, and an assistant who won’
