Poetic Justice

When I arrived at the boarding school on the south coast of England I despised it on sight. The building was all redbrick and turrets and wrapped in fog with an incessant wind blustering against windowsills and slamming doors. Inside was dark and infused with vinegar and boiled cabbage.
Luckily I was placed in a dormitory with a girl named Gia, and we became friends. For one thing, she too was an insomniac, and for another we shared grand plans and schemes. Chattering all throughout the nights, covering topics revealing a desire for adventure and excitement, we giggled in between the snores of others, and frequently Matron overheard us and stormed in, caterwauling for “Silence!”



5 thoughts on “Poetic Justice

  1. Your delinquent past has made you who you are today–never shun that! You’ll be a better teacher because of the experiences you’ve had, not necessarily for the “book-learnin” you skipped out on. Can’t wait for next week’s column to hear about what the ladies have shared with you. Love the stories from your boarding school days–keep them coming!

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