She left and I watched the bottom of her feet as she walked away. A short time later she returned with a full basket of dirty sheets and towels almost...as tall as her. I stopped what I was doing, which if anyone is interested was installing a new toilet in room 136, and walked to the utility room. She was standing in the middle of the utility room, bare foot on the cold, white tile floor surrounded by mounds of laundry. We began to unload the pile of laundry, my eyes glued to her pretty bare. “You always have to answer a question in such a way that even the fucking dumbest rubberhead anchors in our classes don’t feel left out. You ask questions not for your own curiosity but to show the rest of us what you figured out. You just want the teacher to say it.”“I wanted to be nice,” Her lip vibrated and she clenched her fists. Near hurt became frustration anger. She stepped forward. I grabbed her hips because the wet shower floor was slippery and I wanted to touch her again. She looked. More

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