Room 314 and the Graduation Tickets for Hannah Morgan
Rachel touched the window glass with her palm.
She kept her hand flat against the pane to check the temperature of the room.
“They need to fix the seal on this frame,” Rachel said.
“The draft is terrible.”
“I’m leaving in three days,” I said.
“I can survive a little cold air.”
I sat down at the small metal desk.
It held nothing but a black pen and a thick brown leather binder.