Harlan remembers walking back towards his office from the conference room after his meeting with Dean Vance. He remembers rounding the corner. He remembers feeling himself shaking uncontrollably, how his clenched fists rattled at his sides inexplicably, so forcefully that for a moment, he wondered if they were experiencing an earthquake before realizing, he was the one shaking, so hard he couldn’t stop; it was him, all him.
He remembers the other professors hustling past him in the opposite direction, remembers someone brushing against his shoulder, someone else telling him to have a good evening but the words ringing, almost indiscernibly, in his ears.
It is 5 PM and all the professors are heading out for the night; Vance has at least done him that favour, though even that much surprise
