I did have quite a lot of books to put in storage, but there are some that I could not quite bring myself to put elsewhere, most significantly, my student journals. I would not impose them on anyone, yet I cannot bring myself to destroy them. Perhaps locked away in the trunk, to be found decades after my death, they may bring amusement to a social anthropologist. So many bright plans I had, with Professor Haddington-Scott's example, to have tenure and family seemed possible.
I now know how vanishingly rare her situation was, and how lucky they were to have each other. Finding a mate who respected her work and realized it was as important as his own, that is an amazing feat. I thought it might be possible, but through my years at Oxbridge, I was mostly seen as a research mine, when I was seen at all by "gentleman" scholars. Disillusionment set in after the third time I was not credited as a full researcher on a team of equally-ranked graduate students. Still, I continued, in hopes of at least gaining my doctorate, and later tenure, even if finding a partner was out of the question.
Then the Professors disappeared, and I was turned out of the department. I do not regret the years I have given to Annabella, but the future is no longer mine to grasp, it seems.