The smell of spring is out of synch with the patches of snow, but it hangs in the air, cloying, tantalizing, seductive. I race to my room to retrieve my Psych books, breathing deep like a long-distance runner. I’m tall and muscular but have trouble remembering an assignment for five minutes. Alzheimer’s. That’s what Mia calls it. Thank God brain death is painless. If she knew what was really on my mind, she’d move to another dorm.