#carelessandunthinking

"Now, we see in Jane Eyre a classic example of gothic literature.  We have the elements of the supernatural: when Jane hears Rochester calling her from far away, the supposed appearance of a ghost in Thornfield hall, and even the fact that Rochester thinks Jane is ‘unearthlike.’”  The young professor was sitting on his desk, a copy of Jane Eyre in his hand.  It was one of his favorite books and he loved teaching it.  There was always something new to be explored, some new angle from which to view the book.

He was just about to start in on the other elements of gothic literature when the door flew open and about a dozen people rushed in the door. Professor Gold blinked, glancing around the group.

"What’s all this, then?" he asked. But before anyone gave him a response, the group had started into a production of Twelve Angry Men, except in this case, it looked like Twelve Angry Jurors.  

Well, this was certainly a surprise, and not an entirely unpleasant one.

Cora Mills hadn't exactly intended to get involved in the campus guerilla theater group, but her roommate had roped her into it with promises of hot chocolate and a break from the constant studying she did for her political science major. And there was some practical application- these performances weren't just students running around reciting Shakespeare- they were performances meant to incite political change and protest the current injustices of society. As the poor daughter of an alcoholic who'd grown up in a neighborhood of predominantly Hispanic immigrants, that had some appeal to Cora.

Even if she was a terrible actress.

Playing the part of a man, she thought she looked completely ridiculous in false army get up. Her character was a Mexican immigrant (solely because of the fact that she herself spoke Spanish,) forced to enlist in the Vietnam War. She was supposed to come back with shell shock and later kill herself near the end of the performance.

She did it all quite woodenly, attempting to work off her fellow actors but having very little success. It just wasn't something that came naturally to Cora. So as soon as she spoke her last line- "and now, this war has killed me too! Me mataré!"- she scurried 'off-stage' and tried to duck out of sight of the professor who's class she'd interrupted.

The young professor had a free period.  Well, mostly free; he still had to look over what he was doing for his classes this afternoon.  But he needed to eat.  Professors generally didn’t go to the Student Union, but it was the nearest building with food and he looked young enough that he could have been an older college student.  

He didn’t have a lot of time to eat, but he had enough.  The professor was looking through his papers when a young woman approached his table.  Looking up, he tilted his head slightly as she spoke, leaning back in his chair.  

"Oh," he said with a small laugh, realizing that she was finished.  "Yeah, sure, go ahead."  It wasn’t as though he was doing anything terribly important and it would help this young woman with her schoolwork.

"Thanks," Cora said, wasting no time in cinching the cuff around his upper arm. This was so unbelievably awkward, but what else could she do? She let the apparatus do it's work, glancing at the numbers as she pumped the little balloon.

"125 over 90. That's a little high," she muttered, unwrapping the cuff and quickly shoving it back in her bag. "I'm Cora, by the way. Sorry I interrupted your lunch."

Send 'College' and I'll generate a number 1-57 and create a college-verse starter.

6. Hey, I have to take someone’s blood pressure for class will you be my victim?

This was literally the last thing Cora wanted to do. Ever. But she'd made the mistake of signing up for the stupid Anatomy and Physiology lecture, (damn science credits, this wasn't even her major,) and so now she had to pay the price. With the blood pressure monitor firmly in hand, she did a quick scan of the Student Union dining hall and decided on the man sitting alone in the far corner.