You draw near enough to make out the hand-painted slogans on the signs: "WP is not OK!" and "Keep the TOWN in downTOWN". The brick building has a "FOR SALE" sign in its window. Looks like the college wants to buy a building and local residents aren't having any of it.
You keep your head down as you pass on the opposite side of the street, even though none of them will recognize you as a WP professor. You haven't been in town long enough for that.
"Bomomsay Clestenrogo?" a disbelieving voice calls. A figure breaks from the crowd and lopes across the street to you. He shoves his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans.
It's Manish.
That's…Unexpected
An Indian man with short black hair styled into a teal fauxhawk. He's wearing a green shirt.
You look Manish over. He's not as lanky as he was in your school days, and he's wearing his black hair in a fauxhawk with teal highlights. But it's unmistakably him.
Manish grins as he reaches you. "I thought that was you." He raises his arms as if to hug you, then holds out a hand for you to shake, then shoves his hands back in his pockets.
"Manish, where've you been? What happened to you? Are you—" You break off, unsure if you want to poke at that old wound the first time you see him after so many years.
Manish sighs. "Do you have a few? Minutes, I mean? To catch up?"
You're running early enough that there's no danger of missing class. "Sure."
The two of you set off down the sidewalk, you chewing your bagel as you go. It's almost like old times, when the two of you would walk around downtown and discuss classes.
But it's not old times. Not after what went down at the end of college.