It was dark. The air had that smoothness to it that only occurs on the first warm days of spring. I was hurrying off to my last class. I glanced across the street at the students streaming out of the first building I could see on campus. In the stream there was one I recognized. He must have felt my eyes. We stared at each other from our own side of the street. My eyes welled up for a second, and though I wanted desperately to make my feet move in his direction I stayed firmly planted. He thrust his hands into his pockets as if he had to put them somewhere so his arms would not reach for me. I could see the determination to stay put in his stature. At the same time we turned away from each other and walked in opposite directions. I looked back, when it was too late to call out his name, his head was down, and his gait was forced. I wonder if he looked back too.