He took a large white handkerchief from a rear pocket. He unfolded it and wiped off the dewdrops that were beginning to form on his balding dome. He carefully refolded it and put it back in his pocket. Then he reached into his watch pouch, extracted the gold-plated timepiece he had inherited from his grandfather, thumbnailed open its worn cover, and checked the hour. Two forty-one: exactly on time.
He stood before the door of the principal's office, hesitant. He tilted his head back slightly, adjusted his trifocals, squinted through the narrow slab, and read the new nameplate announcing the new occupant as Ms. Penni Mode, Ed.D.
He took a large white handkerchief from a rear pocket. He unfolded it and wiped off the dewdrops that were beginning to form on his balding dome. He carefully refolded it and put it back in his pocket. Then he reached into his watch pouch, extracted the gold-plated timepiece he had inherited from his grandfather, thumbnailed open its worn cover, and checked the hour. Two forty-one: exactly on time.
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Paul Enns Wiebe perpetually asks himself, "What do I want to write when I grow up?" Archives
March 2022
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