Children's Fiction
Seymour went into deep-think mode. One eyebrow went up and one eyebrow went down. Mr. G. looked at me for a translation. I had no idea what was going on in Seymour's head. When it came to football, things were definitely weird.
Every morning when she woke, the little girl stretched and said Good Morning to the sun, the trees and the wind. Then, with hope swelling her heart, she said to the bird, "Today, maybe he'll come."
Who? The bird didn't know. And neither did the little girl. But as surely as the sky is blue and the sun is yellow, she knew she was waiting for someone.
Every morning when she woke, the little girl stretched and said Good Morning to the sun, the trees and the wind. Then, with hope swelling her heart, she said to the bird, "Today, maybe he'll come."
Who? The bird didn't know. And neither did the little girl. But as surely as the sky is blue and the sun is yellow, she knew she was waiting for someone.
