This is the story of how William's parents first met, from his dad's perspective.

John aligned his textbooks on the table neatly, with the large guidebook on the bottom and each of the plays stacked on top in the order presented in the syllabus that he had printed and laid neatly beside it. Hamlet was, perhaps predictably, the first that they would read, followed by King Lear and Macbeth for tragedies, Henry IV and V for histories, and finally moving into comedies with A Midsummer Night's Dream. He was sitting alone, as none of his friends could understand why he was taking such a difficult class when any literature course could have fulfilled his requirement. He allowed their good natured teasing but took the quiet stance that material that is insufficiently challenging is also insufficiently rewarding.

He watched as the other students filtered in, slightly more girls than boys, some familiar faces, but none that he could have put a name to. They settled in as though they were perfectly at home, both in the room itself and with each other. A group of four girls slowly gathered on his left, and he could hear them swapping course names from their new schedules: Brit Lit II, Creative Writing, Modern American Novel. Clearly English majors, all.

The professor entered the room a few minutes later, just before the class was to begin. He introduced himself, provided a brief course description, and began taking roll call.

In a class comprised of ten to fifteen students, John knew that his name would be called last. He noticed the first few who were called, but lost interest when the professor began simply checking off names of students that he recognized. It was too difficult to identify.

Finally, the professor looked up as he said, "John Varner?"

"Present." John acknowledged the professor with a nod of his head.

"And Cassandra Walters," the professor concluded.

"Cassie," she corrected.

John looked to his left and noticed that the girl who had spoken, while clearly in the group of English majors, appeared to be a bit younger than the rest. Freshman or sophomore most likely, without as many English courses under her belt as the rest. Her hair was medium length, blond, filled with crimp-like waves. He couldn't tell whether she was wearing just a touch of makeup or none at all. Her eyes were glancing over her syllabus.

They ended the class with a staged reading of Hamlet. The professor assigned roles for Francisco, Bernardo, and Horatio from ready volunteers, but paused at looking for a student to read for Marcellus. After looking around the room, a few girls began to raise their hands. John had been skimming the text up to this point, but, at the pause, he looked up, saw the situation, and decided to raise his hand.

"Remind me of your name again?" the professor asked him.

"John."

"Alright, John, give it a try." He turned and began pointing out places at the front of the room. "Francisco begins on stage here. Bernardo, you will enter from the left. On cue, Horatio and Marcellus follow."

The scene proceeded more or less smoothly. The boy playing Bernardo stumbled a bit on a longer line, turning a comma into a pause long enough to be a period, but so far the dialogue was simple.

The English major boy playing Horatio led the way onto the "stage". John walked behind him, doing his best to look about as he thought a castle watchman might until Francisco asked, "Who's there?"

"Friends to this ground," answered the boy playing Horatio.

"And liegemen to the Dane," John answered smoothly.

Francisco exited soon after, leaving the three boys alone. They carried on the dialogue to the end of the scene, which was short.

"Nicely done," the professor approved. "Did you hear how John's words flowed smoothly from one line to the next? That's what I want to see from all of you. Focus on the meaning of the sentences to let your pauses come in naturally, not at the end of every line."

In the next class, the professor gave him the role of Hamlet. In scene three, the girl named Cassie got the role of Ophelia. As she lowered her hand, John heard a girl to his right mutter something about "type casting". He frowned at her. Cassie had proven both her studiousness and intelligence in the earlier discussion.

True to expectations, she delivered her lines smoothly, with proper emphasis and pronunciation, even though her acting was a bit sub-par.

When they reached Act III, Hamlet and Ophelia finally shared a scene together. For the first time since the beginning of the course, John stumbled over his lines so badly he had to begin again not once but twice. He ended the scene with a face flushed scarlet.

Class ended directly after. As John walked back to his seat to gather up his things, Cassie followed.

"I've never heard you read with such difficulty," she said. "Were the lines more difficult than usual?"

"They were," John admitted with a shy smile. "I had no wish to speak words so cruel, even while acting."

Cassie smiled. "Well, I know you were only reading the lines that were written on the page. I hardly think that you would speak of giving me a dowry."

"If I did, I certainly would not place it in the form of such a curse. I must admit that I am rapidly losing all admiration for Hamlet's character."

Cassie said, "I think that I would like to argue on that point."

John looked up at the clock and then around the nearly empty classroom. "Cassandra, would you let me buy you a cup of coffee?"