Write a description of someone in this room. No name, no clothes, no hair color.

 It took me about a week before I realized I had most of my classes with him this semester. I don’t know how I missed him; he towers over most of the class and is usually the first with a comment or question, an answer in a silent lit class, or first comment on a blog post or discussion board. A gentle giant with big doe eyes, we commiserate over Faulkner and long form nonfiction. With a voice to match his size, he sits one lanky leg crossed over the other in the back of a classroom and adds intelligent commentary that I wish I had thought of first. Tracy Kidder, Joan Didion, John D’Agata, and Jon Krakauer, we survived them all, my English major comrade.