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   I have almost caught up with my work, Jillian mused, as she knocked on her study advisor's door the following Wednesday. I'm going to get quite good marks in the examinations. There is really no need at all for these little meetings. He's got a bent agenda.This has got to stop.
   The door opened. "Come in, come in. Coffee? No. Do sit down. You don't drink coffee?"
   They took their usual places, her upright, him laying back. Silence.
   "How do you think things are going?"
   "Oh." He sat up. Looked startled.
   "Why the surprise? What's wrong with my work?" standing up as she spoke, Jillian turned toward the door.
   Pushing his chair back he rushed around the desk, laying his hand on her shoulder, trying to slow her, restrain her, dominate her, she suspected.
   "Nothing. nothing at all."
   "That's all right then. Isn't it."
   "Yes. Yes, I suppose it is."
   She looked at him, kept a slight smile on her face, let her eyes go hard.
   His brows furrowed. He took his hand off her.
   "Good." she said.
   He still looked puzzled. "About our next meeting - " and saw her eyes narrow slightly. " - Perhaps not." And opened the door. "Good luck with finals."
   Standing in the doorway, looking straight into his eyes she asked, "I'm going to do well, aren't I."
   "Yes. Yes, I'm sure you will."
   "That's what I thought, too. Thank you. See you in class. Goodbye." And she was gone.

Copyright © 2003 Peter Leon Collins
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