Still listening to the Walkman, I entered Miller Hall. Once a dormitory for the school’s first female class, it was now overcrowded with English and Humanities professors trying to avoid stepping on each other’s toes. The entrance hall still had the dorm’s original feel; a common area with luxurious sofas meant as a ‘parlor’ for ‘proper’ young women to congregate.

I walked into the office where I had worked for part of the previous year, and where I now did some freelance editing for one of the Professors of English. “Nancy,” I said to the woman who had kind of a maternal hold on me. “Did you hear -?” She nodded.

Nancy was up for review at the end of the month; I was helping her assemble, organize, and edit her professional documents so that she could receive tenure. We usually worked without the radio, as the words you’re reading tend to interfere with those you’re hearing.

But this day was different. I turned on the radio, and we listened to the DJs continue to cover the breaking news.