Law School Murders: Okay, Thanks

As she graded papers, she couldn’t keep her mind from drifting. It started with the sheets of paper and then she dissolved into a fantasy of being an FBI agent, then a lawyer.

Kim’s night terrors haunted her sleep. When she woke up in cold sweats, she knew that she had to keep up the strength that held her together these past few years. She went to her phone and looked up drugs to take by prescription. She just wanted the terrors to stop.

She returned to her desk. She started grading more papers and finally couldn't stomach it anymore. She met the toilet bowl.

After flushing, she wiped her mouth with a paper towel. The mirror became her friend. For a long time she looked at and looked at her life.

She counted no blessings, just an understanding that she was supposed to be on course to become department chair in the morning. With all of the negativity that had befallen her, she still marched forward under the power of her own intrepidity. It was simpler than that. Her own sense of grit and self-worth accompanied her on her worst days. Monday morning would be no different.

To walk the halls knowing that someone wants to kill her, even if it was a joke, even if it was something where someone was playing with her head, she still had a moment to better comprehend her own ideas. Maybe she could catch the perpetrator, maybe she would give the best of herself to this vicious figure.

No matter what the case would be, she still had to make a speech. She’d done them before but still dreaded having to grandstand in front of people and deliver an address. The curt amount of words helped.

“Good morning. I wanted to thank the faculty for choosing me to chair the law department. It is something that I never planned long term. I just wanted to hold this position for as long as possible. Thanks, again.”

“That was a great speech, Kim,” Garland McFay admitted.

“I appreciate it.”

“Now, it’s going to suck. Everyone in the other departments are going to ask for more supplies and class time. You’ll be jockeying just to get enough hours for you to map out your lesson plans. I wish you the best. You’re going to need it.”

Kim shook his hand and kept going down the line. Sheila Font looked at Kim.

“Pay him no mind. He’s just salty that he won’t be in the chair anymore. That he’ll be forgotten and not pick up tenure. He’s afraid, too. For all the work he put into this department, he’s worried that his castle of dreams will evaporate before his eyes. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” Sheila had blonde hair and slate gray eyes. Some lines around her mouth showed her age but she retained a sense of beauty nonetheless.

When Kim returned to her office, she looked at the stack of papers on her desk. She knew that she would be tasked with finding another paper excellent in execution and precise in diction and syntax and still wanted her head taken off her shoulders. She graded every piece of paper but found no indication of anything nefarious. She blinked and then lifted her head from her work. Standing before her was Philipa Nova. She was cinnamon colored and stood tall. She looked like she could be Kim’s daughter.

“Yes, Miss Nova.”

“Okay, so I heard that you’re chair now. Congratulations! I just wanted to see if my thesis was clear enough.”

“You’ll have it by Wednesday.”

“Okay, thanks.”