Mattie stared beneath her lowered lids at the moonlight filtering through the curtain of her bedroom window. She was exhausted but unable to sleep. What could she do? How could she help? She knew that getting involved in any kind of student protests would be strictly prohibited in her contract and lead to her termination, and she loved her job too much to risk losing it. Even advising students on their best course of action to get their ideas across could be misconstrued, and lead to the same untenable outcome. There were strict rules for faculty as well as students at Brooksford. She rearranged the pillows and turned over, trying to quiet her troubling and unresolved thoughts. She reached down and rubbed the end of her left leg, annoyed that it had been aching, and she reminded herself to call a prosthetist. She sighed and closed her lids, and pushed her hair back from her face, trying for the hundredth time to relax. The lyrics and tunes of the anti-war songs floated softly through her consciousness, as she adjusted the position of her left leg under the thick, green comforter and blankets, and she could feel her body slacken. As she drifted off, she saw herself as if from above, standing alone under the maple tree in her long black coat, in the darkness of the quad, listening intently to the ballads. Then, the man in the black coat joined her and she saw herself turn ever so slowly and pull aside her fur-trimmed black hood to gaze up into his dark eyes.