...
The college dining hall was dimly lit by the dying afternoon sun. Dust motes circled listlessly above a stack of dormant red plastic serving trays.
An awkward silence hung in the air between them like a plate of old glass, smoky, cracked and fragile to the touch.
The old man looked at the tile floor and thought about what to say. He hadn’t thought this part through and was unexpectedly adrift.
Maybe, unconsciously, the old man had been afraid to acknowledge the chance of Paul’s survival so as not to tempt fate.
But here they were.
...
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