4 Ramadan 1443

In the hallway, during a break between classes, while chatting with a colleague about chowder, housing, and finding community, a wave of grief wafted over and engulfed me. I steadied myself, breathed in deeply, considered what I had just said, and began a new sentence, a new thought. I decided not to return to the previous sentence, the previous thought.

And somewhere between my classroom and the theater, under the clear sky and setting sun, my memory’s grief eventually receded.