she stood among the stationary. she stood among the notebooks, the cahiers canada, the lined paper. she stood among the compasses and the rulers. she stood among the pens and pencils, the markers. she stood among the erasers. she looked at the little paper squares scattered around the displays that people before her had used to test things out. it was always a scribble, or it was always “bonjour.”
let me in, let me in, let me in.
on most days her hair was thick and heavy, and remnants of the morning’s song clung to the base of her neck.