Drug Store

He sat across from me in the library, imprisoned by my watch after five warnings to stop bothering others during their work.  He had already debated with me about my approval of which book he could read for a project.  He had found a fictional sports book forty-three pages shorter than the one I had originally approved.  Surely a shorter book equates to a better story, right?  After throwing a decorated and playful tantrum, he went back to his seat near some of his comrades.  Five minutes later he found himself under my eagle eye.  Amazingly, he defied the stars and entered the world of his novel.  Then came this question that melted my frustrations into laughter, “Is a drug store where they sell crack and stuff?”

Advertisements