The almost happened on a Wednesday.

Not planned. Nothing about any of this had been planned.

She had a seminar cancelled at the last minute — email at eight am, she was already dressed, already caffeinated, already mentally in the room — and she came back to find him still there, still in the grey hoodie, sketchbook open, not expecting her.

He looked up when she came in.

"Cancelled," she said.

"Oh." He looked at his sketchbook. "Good or bad?"

"Good. I wasn't ready for the Middlemarch question."

"You're always ready," he said.

She looked at him. "You don't know that."

"You read it twice," he said. "The copy on...