A Silver Photo Frame on Our Porch Ended My Fifteen Year Blind Spot
She adjusted her glasses with her middle finger as she looked up, her face instantly shifting from a squint to a wide smile.
“Anna, you actually made it through the gate,” Claire said, her voice carrying over the chatter of the arriving guests. “The dean has been asking if your paperwork cleared the registry desk.”
“It cleared on Tuesday morning, Claire,” Anna said, her tone steady and quiet.
“We have you down as a guest of honor for the department table,” Claire said, sliding a green badge across the white tablecloth. “Not a spouse badge, Jordan, so don’t try to sit in her designated sector.”
“Understood,” I said, stepping back to let two other professors squeeze into the line behind us. “My presence here is strictly supportive.”
A tall man with silver hair and a blue silk tie turned around from the second table, his eyes locking onto Anna’s face.
This was Dr. Aris Thorne, the dean of the science department, who had sat at our dining table only two weeks ago while Marcus played with his wooden blocks on the rug.
