A flurry of movement waved through the roomful of interns, all of their faces pinched with sudden nerves. People were already milling outside the double doors, but I didn't spot a particular sandy-brown head among them. Sam said he would be here, though. He was probably just held up in Friday afternoon traffic.

I stood behind my table filled with digitized and original Spanish photos and their descriptive translations, ready as I would ever be, taking in the gothic architecture ...