Tipping back in our chairs, we were poised. I could hear the clink of spurs, the wooden report of the saloon door swinging shut. Across the small table, he waited for me to make my move. 793 more words
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The first thing she did was break my Japanese kaleidoscope—jabbed her finger through the viewing window. From the threshold of my office, she’d homed in on it, as if she’d known it would be there, on my table by the schefflera, awaiting destruction. 850 more words
The following vignette is drawn from my time volunteering in a kindergarten.
P, five years old, was normally well behaved—self-regulating, in clinical parlance. His classmate C, whom the teacher considered too young for school, might interrupt proceedings by pounding on his tiny chest and belting out a Tarzan imitation; P, sturdier and more mature, knew how to listen. 925 more words
The prism suspended above my window had ceased spinning its rainbows already that day, the sun having moved on. I’d been doing some desk work, just an average morning, when one of the agency’s supervisors knocked and asked if I had a minute. 677 more words