"Just sitting here with all your friends?" said Herb, the Maintenance guy, grinning, with a nod toward the table that was empty except for me.
"They're out writing," I told him, and changed the subject.
My students were scattered around Luther, writing from a line that opens Joan Didion's "Los Angeles Notebook"--There is something uneasy in the Los Angeles air this afternoon, some unnatural stillness, some tension, a line I love.
I'd stayed at the table, reflecting in my own notebook on the air around my workplace this morning.
It was good to see Herb grin, anyone grin.