My eyes fall on him in an instant, as if they were destined to find him in the fullest of crowds.
Harlan is engaged in conversation, a delicate flute of champagne resting within his strong fingers. He smiles as he engages with his fellow academics.
For a moment, I stand, absolutely silent and dumbfounded, watching him – Harlan – a former professor at the university, someone who has no apparent place at this event, at least to me.
In that moment, I am speechless, watching him, watching his obliviousness to my presence, wondering if he'll be excited or irritated to see me. Wondering if he feels the same way I do, wondering if he feels cursed to be forever haunted by my presence, cursed to always, somehow, inexplicably, at every turn, find me, and to wonder why he can't be rid of me, no ma
