THE PLAGIARIST

A fat teaching assistant has caught a freshman cheating on his exam and she stands now in the hallway displaying the evidence, telling the story to her colleagues: "I could tell by the way he looked.  I could tell by his hands."  With each detail the story expands, rooms are added, hallways, chandeliers, flights of stairs, and she sinks exhausted against a railing.  More listeners arrive and she begins again.  She seems thinner now, lighter.  She rises, turns.  She seems almost to be dancing.  She clutches the paper of the wretched student.  He holds her firmly, gently as they turn and turn across the marble floor.  The lords and ladies fall back to watch as they move toward the balcony and the summer night.  Below in the courtyard soldiers assemble, their brass and steel shining in the moonlight.


© 2008 by Louis Jenkins


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