I stood in the market, tampon in hand, waiting to sign the receipt for my snack that I eat between jobs.
"Her mother attributed some of her suicidal tendencies to your Spanish class. Sorry, but I have to run."
"That's quite a bomb you just dropped on me."
"Just letting you know it was said."
Okay. Thanks. I appreciate that thought.
I showed my Housing Authority students a picture of Lola in her new sweater. It is a ridiculous expenditure and I knew that they would think she looked cute in it.
"Your house looks NICE." Miriam commented.
I felt uncomfortable. My house is nice. Very nice. I hadn't thought that they would notice. I hadn't thought about it at all.
"I went to my first concert last night!" Hunter squealed. I taught him last year as well and have never see him more animated.
"Who was it?"
"TAYLOR SWIFT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" he howled.
"We had special seats! And then, we went to the club! It had leather seats and a bar!".
"It's 'prepara' people!" he interjected, slapping his hand on the table to instruct the rest of his team to hit the right answer on their iPads.
"I'm flying first class to South Beach for Spring Break!" he continued.
I crept out of school and walked toward the Housing Authority, climbing over the railroad tracks while fearing that somehow my shoe would get caught between the wooden planks and a train would come, then slid down a rocky hill on my crouched butt and hands, like a disturbed skier, before shooting into the bike path and nearly getting run over.
"MISS WAGNER!!!!" a child screamed, hand outstretched from a passing car.
I rose and steadied myself, and waved back with a smile.
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