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Show -196- ed. The only other person in the room, a young instructor, stood before the mail slots as if in meditation. The Professor gathered up his own assortment of mimeographed sheets, publishers' brochures, letters and departed for his office. Once there, he threw the mail onto his desk, then, because the light was dim, walked to the Venetian blinds and adjusted them to let in the little sunlight there was. Seated at his desk, he searched through the mail and pulled out three pieces that carried first-class postage. The first letter was from a former student, now teaching in South Dakota, who wondered if there might not be a position for him somewhere in California. The Professor remembered the student, not so much because of his scholastic excellence as because of his pleasant personality. The former student listed his accomplishments, which, except for his teaching eight years in South Dakota, were not impressive: two book reviews in academic journals and a short story in a small literary review. The second letter was from a university in Chicago, inviting him to deliver a paper at their conference on contemporary authors in the spring. The third he did not open, because he recognized its contents from the envelope: a request that he update the material of his entry in Who's Who in America. These communications imposed a strange, dream-like quality upon the afternoon. They suggested to the Professor that elsewhere in the country, life was pursuing its usual course. |