I was reading some stories from DW Wilson’s collection, Once You Buy a Knuckle, at Chapters today, sitting in a corner of the store by a fireplace. When I got up to leave I passed a terminal. On the screen was my collection, The Maladjusted, which means that someone must have just punched it up. It wasn’t there when I sat down. As per my routine I had checked the availability of my book at a terminal, but I’d done this on the first floor. I was positive of this. So I went to the shelf in the fiction self where my collection resides and, sure enough, were four of my IB history students–one of them with the book on his lap, opened. A little awkward, but funny too. They are very nice guys and we talked for a few minutes about the Christmas break and I offered to lend them a copy once school restarted.