|
There's something awfully, unpleasantly familiar about this door. It's just like the ones in my high school. With a heavy sense of routine, I open the door and walk in. The classroom is just like the one I wasted so much of my life in, but deserted and covered in dust and cobwebs. I start violently sneezing.
"Bless you, dear," says a pleasant, warm voice. I look up and see none other than my English teacher Mrs. Hennessey, one of the few teachers who ever really appreciated my writing. She's a woman in her sixties with a sprightly, young smile, wearing a blue sweater. She had died last year. "All right, what's going on? Why am I here? How do I get away from--" "Shhhh," says Mrs. Hennessey. Her eyes are an odd color--a bright gemlike purple, where the real Mrs. Hennessey's were dark brown. "All in due time, dear. To answer your question--I am an agent of the Readjustment Bureau. We have determined you have untapped potential which the life you have right now won't let you express, so we're going to send you to another one. You can choose." She beckons me over to the desk and lays out a set of trading cards. I pick them up and turn them each over in my hand, examining them carefully. In the end I go with:
|
3/22/2016 7:51:48 PM
Linking Enabled
Extending Enabled
1649300 episodes viewed since 11/21/2004 7:16:57 PM.