These Aren’t Cupid’s Darts
Still in his pj’s on a snowy Valentine Wednesday, Bradley glances at the clock on the stove.
“It’s 11:33. Let’s see. I’d be packing up my language arts stuff and heading off to math right about now.”
“Perfect!” I say, “You should get your math book out! There’s no better day than a snowday to catch up on your studies.”
He whips his head around, locks eyes on mine, darts pierce my pupils. I actually flinch.
