![]() Until the once- white paper was covered in black paint. She began at the top right corner and slowly, deliberately, painted the paper one precise stroke at a time. Decisively, Alexandra ran to the paint center, grabbed a long, thin brush, dipped it in the black paint and started methodically painting. Should I intervene? What would I say? I stood motionless, waiting. I watched Alexandra’s face turn red, consumed with some internal sense of guilt. Michael, on the other hand, looked fascinated as he held up the thermos and a trickling sound rattled inside, somewhat akin to a modern- day rain- stick. ![]() You could see the excitement drain out of her. Alexandra turned pale, became speechless, and was afraid to move. The inside shattered when it hit the ground. Alexandra’s backpack inadvertently knocked over Michael’s glass- lined thermos container, a relic from the past. They were engrossed in a deep conversation about dinosaurs. On her way, she passed a group of boys enjoying their snack. Returning from our weekly Kindergarten swimming lessons, Alexandra was in a hurry to get to the classroom and have her snack before launching into her hour of free exploration.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |