“‘Pop quiz!” The teacher announces while handing out sheets of paper; covered in those dreaded questions. “Scariest thing I've seen all day,” I mutter under my breath as my palms sweat. “You haven't seen anything yet.” The voice was soft. Looking around, everyone was focused and the teacher was back at his desk. “Psst! Down here.” A shiver runs along my neck as I look down. The equations start to melt together, numbe...
I have forgotten a thousand thingsmost of them moments of silent wonderingin which one pair of eyes can't breakfrom another pair of eyesand tremulous whispers give wayto the first brush of breathacross breath across lips movingtoward the heat of other lipsalready kissing out the shapesof words that will never be spokensung or whispered into that disappearing spacebetween lips here and eyes thereand those impossible explos...
Professor Bachusrand wrote, “=42” on the wall. He stopped and looked at what he had written. Then he rappelled down the inside wall of the tall tower, where he had been working on his equation. When he reached the bottom, the old lizard celebrated by running around in circles, jumping up and down, and singing. “The answer is 42 . . . the answer is 42. Whoo-Hoo the answer is 42,” sang Professor Bachusrand. Students and fac...
