All thoughts of anything besides Ellie’s upcoming class were forgotten as the clock drew nearer and nearer to the designated meeting time, and her reluctance grew. At AIAS, it was a requirement for all students, no matter what house or major, to take either a music or art appreciation class as part of the general education section of the degree plans. Ellie had wanted to take art appreciation. She was a Creative Writing major, and had always had more of an interest in art than music, but, apparently, so had the majority of AIAS’s freshmen and sophomores as well. The waitlist for the art appreciation class was over a year long, and it was required for students to complete all lowerclassmen courses before they could be classified as upperclassmen in their junior year, and subsequently move into the bigger upperclassmen lofts. Ellie had waited for an entire year with hopes to get a spot in the art class, but with her classification on the line, and a very full time schedule to look forward to in the fall, she didn’t have time to waste; hopefully it would be just a standard textbook class, as most appreciation classes went.

The class was scheduled to meet in the Angelou-Davis COLABS building, right next door to the Second House; Ellie finished her drink and made her way back across the courtyard at a slight angle, her sights set on the large three story building that was her House’s neighbor. It was quiet inside, with the exception of the news playing from flat screen televisions suspended on the walls, and the occasional conversation; Ellie made her way up to the second floor, where classroom 215 awaited her. She did her usual thing, heading straight over to the desk in the far back corner of the room and camping out, pulling out her laptop, notebook and chargers while no one was there. Before long students began trickling in, some of them looking just as reluctant about the class as Ellie felt, without a word they selected seats for themselves and turned their attention to their phones, each person keeping to their own bubbles. The room was a quarter full when the class meeting time came and, like clockwork, Dr. Barkley, the professor, walked in, looking altogether miffed about having to work over his summer vacation.

“I see my teaching aid isn’t here yet,” he said drily, his eyes scanning the room. “So, in the meantime, let’s get an attendance sheet started.” He started the sheet on the opposite side of the room from Ellie, and it took a bit of time getting across the room, with the spaces in between. Ellie had just gotten the sheet in her possession and had begun to sign her name when she heard a knock sound on the closed door up front, accompanied by the professor’s footsteps.

“Ah, Mr. Park, how nice of you to join us.”

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