The grass, soft and new, flowers nodding quietly in the warmth of spring. He sits on the quad at the university between classes, thinking.
“What will I do when I get out of here,” he thinks. Smiling, he imagines her face, a house with a picket fence, him coming in with a brief case at days end. 60
Across the quad, she sits, thinking, “What will I do when I graduate?” She sees herself walking in the door, slinging down her briefcase and turning on the news. He walks in with a glass of cool tea for her. They smile.