"Wait. I know you from somewhere. Where you in Mr. Helmlinger's class in 6th grade?"
I nodded.
"You where the one with a puffy jacket every single day, right?"
I nodded again and sighed.
———
Every day that year, I had worn a puffy jacket. It wasn't because it was cold, (it was 80 degrees on regular, it certainly wasn't cold) or because it reminded me of my chilly Washington home, no.
I wore it, because I could, and I just never bothered to take it off. And it was the science classroom. It's aways cold in the science classroom.
The tile doesn't help either.
YOU ARE READING
Short Stories For The Poetic Soul
Short StoryShort stories I came up with, no specific meaning to them. Some describe feelings of the moment, others my imagination going wild, and Others describing the scenery.
