“Yes, Sir?” replied the student being questioned.

“Wonderful!”

Mr. Griffin gazed at his student’s artwork.

“I improved the charcoal shading,” Patricia beamed. She looked up for
his reaction.

“I mean your dance of the sugar plum fairy was wonderful,” the teacher
clarified.

“It was Delores. Not me.”

“What were you?”

“One of the reindeer.”

Mr. Griffin gazed into the distance. “Delores!” he yelled and
commenced walking towards her.

Patricia’s eyes filled with tears. A few landed on her drawing.
Someone tapped her shoulder.

“Nice picture. You’re a gifted artist,” Paul the student sitting next
to her said.

“It’s no fun watching you stare at the board.”

Scott didn’t respond. Everyone was mad enough. They hated losing, and he’d won every game since arriving. Protesting it was all luck only increased their frustration.

He picked up the knight-looking character and moved it into the green circle. “How’s that?”

“You win again. You don’t have to be a jerk about it.”

For twenty years, she was my everything. The smile in my morning, the sunshine in my day. But now it is dark and quiet.

One argument led to cruel words. Cruel words led to hurt feelings. Hurt feelings took time to heal, but heal they did. Things returned to normal for us. Life continued for us as a couple. Then it happened.

He listened to her queries, gave all the right answers, asking questions on cue, seizing each opportunity for sexual inference.

Waiting for her fiancé, she allowed herself to bask in the attention and enjoy the ancient game. She even allowed her secret smile to beam forth occasionally, assuring herself that her fidelity was as icily resolute as the emeralds about her flushed neck.

“Do you need any help?” I asked.

“What the hell do I need help for? Everyone thinks the cripple needs help. Damnit, no I don’t need help,” he said.

“I’m sorry, I just thought…”

“That’s your problem. Think too much. What do you know about being crippled?”

“I have schizophrenia,” I said.

“Well, congratulations. We’re both cripples,” he said. He broke a smile and we laughed.

“You don’t feel bad for me anymore do you?”

He saw a woman with an oversized hat and coat moving toward him through the snow. She looked up at him with snowflakes on her face and gave him a large smile.

“Let it snow, let it snow,” She said in a singsong voice while walking past him. He stared at her in complete surprise.

“I would have got those. Those stunts–”

Envelopes in lap, the veteran mock-pouted. “Self-entertainment. Can’t just wait to die, honey. Adapt and move on. I was thinking of entering the Paralympics.”

Tanya sighed noisily. The smile she sought to force died at the sight of his expression. His hand still gripped an open letter and envelope.

“What?”

“Remember the Disability Benefit reappraisal?”

“Ye-aah?”

“Seems they reckon loss of limbs and Kidney Impact Syndrome don’t–”

Pages…

Floor-ward…

At home, she told Ben: I know about the girl you’ve been fucking for the last four months. Your intern. In our God damn bed.

Come on, baby, he said, it wasn’t like that.

We were in a restaurant when she smiled and said lets go for a movie after lunch. It seemed like a good plan. I nodded and paid for the heavy Indian meal. We saw the Bollywood movie while stuffing ourselves with caramel corn, nachos, and soda. I was taxed.