"What does it mean to be alone?"
Perpetual silence.
"Anyone?"
A girl rose her hand only a few inches above her desk.
"Yes, Miss Rothcourt?"
She flushed, folding her hands in her lap. Her voice was low and soft as a baby chick. "When everyone has their eyes on you and you feel unequal, inadequate..."
"No," a boy said, eyes sparkling, "truly being alone is knowing that no one is looking at you."
Miss Rothcourt stopped that boy outside the classroom door and asked, "How can you know for certain that no one looks at you?"
The boy's chestnut hair shaded his eyes. "No one important to me ever has. I know because I always watch them, waiting for them to acknowledge me. They never do."
Before he could walk on, she reached for his arm. "I have looked at you before. Maybe your scale of importance is too narrow."
No comments:
Post a Comment