There was something curiously autumnal about the light this evening. It's that dead, fevered time on campus before Commencement, when plenty of students still have exams and papers to come; when you hear the sounds of sniffing and muffled sobbing in the women's bathroom stall next to you; where couples are engaged in desperate and glum break up silences in strange corners (or more publicly: there were two curiously unhappy looking girls making out on the steps of Tommy Trojan at lunchtime); where flowerbeds are suddenly stuffed with countless cardinal and gold plants in full bloom; where stray groups of students materialize in gowns and hoods to have their photographs taken against fountains; and when the administration suddenly decide to introduce new timetabling systems to take effect in the middle of next year, thereby rendering completely useless half your scheduling plans.
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