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Purgatory - Sunday, Feb. 10, 2019
Friday, Oct. 19, 2007 @ 7:48 am
Wind strips the leaves from the trees, the sky becomes wide, open, my hope. Some green tomatoes ripen, red veining from the bottom up; some fall in on themselves, soft, grey and brown.
Early morning rain. Damp air. Out on the street, horse chestnuts roll. Broken bits thick in the gutters.
In the classroom, the air is hot and dry. Thirty-five students. Boys. And me. It's easy to stare into my books.
You're taking this too seriously.
I write their tests carefully and quickly, elegant solutions, few eraser marks. I check the tests over twice and confidently leave.
Another hot dry day in the classroom. My face is flushed, heart racing; she's giving the tests back. She stands in front of my desk. This is when I know that I did It.
So, Miss Foster, how do you think you did?