The last time I walked on the old Arts Campus was the day after Tom Aprile died. I was on a date with Other Dan, and we were taking the long way to the theater building to see No Shame Theater. As we passed the old sculpture classroom--the workroom, not the trailer--he said huh, wonder what was in there.
In the little office at the back of room 350 was a clear push pin holding a ripped piece of paper with the phone number for home. Today, I took the paper down, rolled it up, and put it in my pocket.
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