I got an application for a writing program (at a school that sort of looked like Berkeley, except it wasn't) returned to me by the head of the department and for some reason, I denied having applied to the program at all. The department head didn't contest me about it and instead suggested that I take a look at a class instead. After thanking her, I went out to a chapel (it looked kind of like the Lipman Room in Barrows Hall, except much bigger, and it was used by multiple religions) and sat down at a memorial prayer services, whereupon I began to vomit ash.
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