A story by alum Cass Pursell (fiction, ’96) appears at Shenandoah:

JT’s sitting at a dark corner table in Carla’s and raises his arm to look at his wrist and make a point on my running late. The watch’s illumination lights the stubble on his face in a tight glow, and the house band starts into another one of those guitar-driven jams that never seem to go out of style. Timmy’s younger sister shakes her hips at the mike and smiles at me as I pass. I give her a nod, and think there’s another talented girl who’ll have to settle for whatever she can get. I motion to Carla for a beer and sit down across from JT.

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