At center of a debate: a former School for Negro Children
On a sweltering summer morning, Fred McGhee surveys an old schoolhouse in the middle of a meadow along Montopolis Drive. The paint is peeling, and overgrown vegetation makes the place hard to see from the road. There’s evidence that someone has recently taken up residence in what appears to be a small storage area.
It was sometime after New Year’s, and the sous vide I had given Jim for Christmas bubbled merrily in the background. (His name wasn’t really Jim. I really did buy him a $238 sous vide.) It had only been a couple of weeks since our first Tinder date, but we were already talking about moving to New York together.
This kind of impulsivity isn’t usually my style—nor is giving expensive presents this early in the relationship—but I had endured the sudden demise of a three-year relationship earlier...