It was a warm, pleasant day with just the hint of a breeze whispering across the grounds, nudging the light brown hair hanging down over the young man’s brow. Above, the brilliant blue of the noonday sky was unbroken save for a smattering of puffy white clouds gathering on the horizon far away to the west. It was the type of day best given to lounging beneath a shady tree, or perhaps taking an excursion to the beach or enjoying some other form of outdoor recreation, but the young man had more serious pursuits on his mind. He oriented himself toward what he felt certain was the appropriate building and continued on.

By the time the young man reached the side entrance to the building, ascended the stairs to the third floor, and poked his head out into the corridor to ascertain whether he had come to the right place, Rosa had already turned away from his computer. The professor was now standing at his desk, collecting into stacks the various papers and notebooks he intended to take with him.Two of these he gathered into his hands and dropped into a cardboard box destined for the backseat of his car.Taking the box into his arms, he turned and walked headlong out of his office door just as the young man, who had followed the lively strains of the piano music down the corridor, was about to walk in. Only the agility of the young man, who managed to twist himself to the side at the last moment, saved the two from colliding.

Taking little notice of the newcomer, now pressed against the wall, Rosa muttered a perfunctory apology as he squeezed by, consolidated his grip on the box, and started on his way down the corridor.

“Professor Rosa?”

Rosa stopped and turned around, wondering if perhaps he had inadvertently ignored a student from the semester just passed. His students occasionally stopped by his office for one reason or another before heading home for the summer—though usually well before this late date—but, he realized, this young man was not one of them. Dressed as he was in shorts and sneakers and an oversized polo shirt bearing the insignia of some club or team, he looked like any other student Rosa might have encountered on campus, but his face was unfamiliar. He was a sturdy sort, Rosa noted, with a thick neck and rugged shoulders. An athlete, no doubt, but there were many on campus, and Rosa paid little attention to sports.

“Yes?” he finally said, eyeing the young man skeptically.

“Excuse me, you don’t know me, Professor Rosa,” he said in a respectful but urgent voice, “but my name is Carter, Carter Quinn. I was wondering—that is, if you had just a minute—if I could talk to you.”