Divya Divya

A runner joined him on the track. The man was disciplined and held his own pace, well out of Scott's way.He shut out the distractions and ran.Scott checked his cheap running watch. He'd been going for forty-five minutes. He could push for a decent half-marathon time.A memory of the dream that woke him flickered across his thoughts. The nightmares came more often, but that wasn't something he could blame on Afghanistan. He understood that the need to know what he was, and why, drove the dreams.His watch beeped at the one-hour mark, another thirty minutes to go. He stopped running abruptly, and began to walk. A half marathon or full marathon distance wasn't going to solve anything."Hey!" the other runner shouted to him.Scott hadn't paid the man much attention. "Yeah?" Are you a student here?"His questioner was in good shape and a few years older."Not until the summer semester starts." Are you a student-athlete?" No." He wondered what kind of grief the man was preparing to give. He laughed at my look of wonderment that the chief would be making the coffee. ‘Around here now if someone wants coffee and there is none made they make it themselves, that even applies to the chief.’ We took our coffee through to his office and sat in a pair of armchairs that he had in a corner away from the desk. He explained that sometimes when dealing with students or his own officers who had gone through problems, the chairs avoided the across the desk official feeling. I found it a great idea, and filed it away for when I designed my own office. While we were having our coffee, Pete told me that as he had already intimated that about five years previously the University had been involved in several big lawsuits involving sexual harassment of students. Gossip was rife and the school was getting a bad name which was hurting enrollment particularly of women. Consultants had been called in to see what could be done to improve the school’s image. Their report was thorough and pulled.
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