Mom was teaching, so I drove over to UBC to catch the end of her class. I slipped into the back of the lecture hall. It was summer semester and this was a third-year history class, so there were few enough students that she noticed my entrance.
She was wearing the green shirt. This weird glowy feeling warmed my chest. Idiot. It was a shirt. It was clean. She didn't know I'd be here today and it had nothing to do with me. Especially since Mom didn't even pause speaking when I came in, her eyes glancing off me from her position at her lectern to the student in the front row who'd raised her hand.
"Can you elaborate on what you meant by 'David was not the underdog of legend?'" the student asked.