He is really gone.
I have to admit myself, I didn't think he'll go through with it.
Ever since I moved to Boston, ever since I was admitted to the university, showed up for my first day, bright eyed, full of promise, and hungry to make something of myself, Harlan has been a constant. Three years floated by, and he's been there. Never approachable, never reachable; for those three years, I didn't so much as speak to the man.
But he was always there.
Always unapproachable, always unreachable. And in that time, I floated along too. Curious. Curious to learn, curious about him. And even though for those first years, I never dreamt that I'd come to know him the way I know him now; something about the permanence of it all was comforting.
He was Harlan. The broody, terrifying head of the Eng
