About twenty-fives minutes later, we’re on the other side of the city and a ways away from campus, pulling into a bound parking lot. I take a quick scan of the apartment complex through my slightly foggy window. It looks really nice; clean and fairly quiet, with great lighting from tall street lamps generously scattered all over the sidewalks.

 

The engine dies and its motoring sound is replaced by those of screaming crickets, croaking frogs, and other typical nightlife as we reluctantly embrace the cold air once again.

 

“This way,” she says, pointing toward a wide brick pavement that stretches and bends into a semi-circle.

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