“Hey, how’s it going?” I looked up from my book at the person who had matched my stride as we crossed the quad. A glance was all it took: pale skin, a crop of red hair that seemed pale, too, and a suit with a tie under his jacket. He was looking at me with the vague empty look reserved for politeness between strangers. This guy wasn’t a classmate or an acquaintance. This guy was workin’ for the Lord. I returned to my book. “What are you reading?” asked Red. I could have ignored him. It might have been more proper and mature to ask him to please leave me be, thank you very much. But I didn’t; after all, I was working for a higher power too, and it seemed wrong to let this opportunity slip by. “Hemingway.” I flashed him the cover. “The Snows of Kilamanjaro.” “Wow. Is it intense?” I snorted without looking up from my book. “Intense? No, I don’t think so. Good, though.” “Do you like to read?” Red’s legs were longer than mine and he was outpacing me. Out of the corner of my