The note I placed on the kitchen table with a container filled with caramel brownies, my claim to fame. My attempt at bribery failed, but it did soften some hearts (mostly those with a sweet tooth) toward me. Someone adhered the happy raccoon to my note, and, I must say, this pleased me, too.
It felt as if I were in Mrs. Repulski’s Advanced Humanities class again.
“I’d better explain this better,” my English teacher abruptly would interrupt her own lecture, adding: “Sara looks confused.”
It’s rather embarrassing at times, but my face is nothing but honest. If I were confused, it showed. Mrs. Repulski would then take the time to explain the material again, perhaps a different way, reading my face to measure the entire class’s level of understanding. That was high school.
But at this particular moment, I was in a step aerobics class, far in place and time from Mrs. Repulski…
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