***
Still feeling awkward about the heartfelt ovation just shown by his students, Nevin walked rapidly down the corridor before finally halting to take a deep breath. Collecting himself again, he hurried to the stairs leading down to the basement level where his office was located.
Nevin needed to avoid personal exchanges right now because he was not very good at it. He was quite uncomfortable with emotional scenes. He was not crying at least, but he thought he could. Maybe he was, or nearly so, as he fought a sniffle. At the bottom of the stairs, he turned down the corridor toward his office. His mind started to fill with competing thoughts. What was he going to do now? Where would he go? How would he support himself? Would he have to sell his computer? He had to think through his dilemma and sort out these questions.
As he drifted along the corridor, he saw someone standing by his office door. At first, it appeared to be an adolescent boy, but as he neared the door he saw that it was a mature man maybe four feet tall wearing an old fashioned tunic and breeches. When they made eye contact, this curious looking fellow appeared to be trembling. Nevin looked him over. He had a bloody cut on his arm, a bruise on the side of his head and some difficulty holding himself up. Nevin reached out to help the man stay upright and said, “I’m Nevin Reasoner. Can I help you?”
The diminutive, oddly dressed stranger stammered, “I. . .I have been. . .delivered here from Antrim.”
Alliance for Antrim Page 10
