Moonlighting

So my eye doctor has structured his practice to resemble an ancient Greek amphitheater, and we sit on stone benches and watch him treat other patients as we wait. The patient before me is a young blind woman, and as the doctor looks at her eyes, I get a call from Wayne that one of my English Department colleagues is missing. Apparenlty, we're not just mild-mannered composition instructors. We're also detectives!

I bring the blind woman with me to our colleague's apartment. Her sense of smell is such that she can tell if a room has seen violence, and this one has, she assures us, although there is no trace of it, no blood, not a thing out of place. It's a wonderful apartment, a whole floor of a former factory, and Wayne and I wander through room after room of art studios and galleries and finally end up looking at a back-to-school issue of Seventeen magazine circa 1983.