Hallways littered with scuffed tile and lean carpet.
Imposing auditoriums with creaking seats and slanted ramps.
Computer keys click and pens scratch paper, all fearful that this minute detail might be on the test.
It never is.
We write it anyway. The fact will impress a group of friends twenty years later at exactly 10:16 p.m on the nineteenth of January.
A degree with ornate type and gold seals.
Then another one.
Still not good enough.
Hipstory 