Registration for the winter semester at the University of California, San Francisco was in progress. It was a cold, misty, windy day. The air conditioning unit in the second floor registration area -- a low ceiling room made up of Travertine marble and mahoganey wood, where the registration was taking place, had just recently been turned back on.
The UCSF Alumni Association had provided the funds for complimentary breakfast. Thus far, the orange and apple juice were all out. Bottles of "Great value" water bottles were encased in an ice bucket with scattered cans of cranberry juice. Twice, the assistants had to run and refill the stash of orange juice, but now they were out. One assitant, Sherry, dredded having to go to buy more orange juice, which would be across the street on the other side of campus.
A man approached the breakfast stand and picked up an ice cold bottle of water. He turned and walked over to another stand to pick up a cream covered donut. He then walked downstairs and entered one of the vacant study rooms. There, he stopped and turned around to watch the crowd upstairs.
He wore a black torn baseball hat which covered his head and ears. He wore shades that had a shiny black frame.
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