Special

Special
“Teacher cried again during quiet time, while all the broken kids lay face down on their folded arms on their tables, sleeping or feigning sleep. She sat at her walnut desk and held her mug with a picture of a bumblebee on it. By degrees, she started to cry. I was watching through the gap between my arms. Pretending and pretending: faking sleep and faking autism. I watched, eyes cracked open on her hiccupy, jerky little sobs and groans. Not so in-control anymore. Not so grown-up.”

A short story about a man who doesn’t belong in the institution he finds himself in. Published in Flash (volume three, number two). Purchase a copy here.