“I’m sorry I can’t stay, my son’s in the hospital.”
This is what my teacher said to me as he frantically shoved papers and textbooks into his bag. I stood in his unorganized classroom and wondered if he even knew what he was putting in there. He picked up two more documents and then zipped up his bag.
“I’m sorry, how about tomorrow?” He had his keys in his hand now and was leading me towards the door.
I frowned and shook my head, “no, I can’t.”
“Okay, tell me everything real fast.” He set his stuff down on a nearby desk and looked at me.
I began to sweat under his gaze and nervously began to tell him about an art contest I was entering. I was due at the end of the week and I had written an original story, that I wanted him to proofread and get his opinion on.
All while stuttering and pausing in mid sentence a couple of times.
“Okay, give me your work and I’ll give it to you tomorrow.”
I smiled and handed him the two page short story. He gather up his things and headed outside to his car. I followed him and thanked him as his sped off breaking the speed limit.
I hope his son is okay.