After walking across the campus to the Kensington Building, I found Dr. Clark’s office on the second floor. The door was open, so I knocked on the frame.
“Come in,” Dr. Clark called out, although I couldn’t see her.
I stepped inside and looked around the room at the personal touches and mementos my Ethics professor kept in her office. Photos of children and humorous knickknacks covered the shelves near her desk.
A worn couch and chair were in front of the desk. A knitting basket embroidered with smiling cats sat on one end of the sofa. But I still didn’t see Dr. Clark.
Suddenly, she popped up from the floor on the other side of the desk. The designer dress she wore to teach her class had been replaced with jeans and a sweatshirt.
“You’re Daisy Wilson, aren’t you?” she asked as she ben
