Jonas navigated the narrow hall redolent with the smells of wet dog, sym socks, and stale soda. Men’s dormitories around the country seemed to smell exactly the same. Jonas equated the scent with freedom, left over teen angst, and fumbling sex.
A blonde boy in only low slung athletic shorts jogged out of his room and turned into Jonas. The boy’s eyes flashed with recognition. Embarrassed, he gasped and stepped back into his room with the slightest bit of a bow.
It would either be blowing snowflakes in Hades or the University was crumbling into Lake Onondoga before the Dean of Students would stalk the residential hallways. Today, however, hell remained a balmy 355 degrees and Syracuse University remained on the hill over looking Salt City.
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