It was the third phone call to interrupt dinner.

And the worst.

My major professor. Sounding very old.

John is dead.

My first thought was 'car accident' because, hey, he was young. And this is the 'travel season', and hence, unfortunately, the accident season.

But no. A brain tumor. Like a bad soap opera, what was thought to be carpal tunnel syndrome turns out to be something serious. And surgery and chemo scheduled promptly after the New Year are suddenly too late.

And the enviable life is suddenly too short.

I suppose wiser things will come to my mind, and many more memories. But all I keep thinking about tonight was the night, at almost midnight, when he and I were the only ones still working in the building and took time off from our studies to chase and catch a bat flitting through the halls.

With a fishing net.

Took a while, but we finally figured out you have to swing at the bat from behind, not the front or side.

Echolocation, you know.

Yeah, we took it outside to let it go.

Of course.