Glenn Jenkins

The building Glenn pulled me to, seemed to be one of those old buildings that were built in the early 1900’s but redesigned to stay in tune with the current structural trends for houses.

It had two floors with four storeys, each with two windows. A small balcony stood near the front door. There were several large wooden benches sitting near the edge of the porch. In the center of the building sat an outdoor fountain.

We approached it as soon as we reached the sidewalk, Glenn, Mila, Martha and I, all looking over our shoulders to make sure that no one was behind us. This part of the campus seemed usually deserted.

The fountain, named after its creator in a poem by Emily Dickinson, was filled with water from a hose that ran from the top down into a basin shaped like a heart. The bowl was filled with small stones that made a gentle tinkling noise when I moved them in any direction.

"What do we do here? I thought we had been heading to the part where there were lights, life, music and