He won’t put it away in a drawer. He can’t imagine hiding it under slippery stacks of magazines, stained clothes, unread books. He coils the thin chain through his fingertips, tips the pendant through the tepid sunlight that filters through his dorm room window. It’s a foreign, inscrutable thing. A silver hexagon etched with unintelligible script. He thinks it’s old, maybe even ancient. Maybe he c...