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September 8, 2004
I'm in my new Glen Plaid "trousers", gold-button cardigan ("heather persimmon"!), crisp striped shirt, brown belt, olive suede boots, and espresso suede trench-style coat. Ready for a two-and-a-half-hour brunch on the Upper West Side with a witty group of professors and literary types. The conversation will flow as thickly and leisurely as the maple syrup Professor Whitcomb pours on his multi-grain waffles.

I turn away from the mirror. Take off the new clothes and replace them on their hangers. Go back to my real life. And miss the Professor, literati, and brunch, even if they only exist in my imagination.