indiana 1:2

A school buddy, Dale, took us for lunch to a cafe, and I saw a teacher of mine from seventh grade, before I met Dale. She was sitting with a butch-looking companion, and a lot of things came clear in my mind, things that had never been more than subconscious oddness back at Earl Warren Junior High. I left Jack and Jill with Dale and walked over to the women's table. Mrs. Rooney, I said, how are you. Hello,Milton, she said, not my name, how funny to see you way out here. We were a long way from Earl Warren. She was younger than I thought she should be, hardly aged since I'd left her class. I didn't correct her memory. Milton was a kid as quiet as I was; we sat together in her class, doodling mostly. This is my partner, Rose, said Mrs. Rooney. Rose, this is Milton, my student, who used to draw hairy pictures of me during my lessons. Isn't that right, Milton. Yes, ma'am, I said, you were hairier than Mr. Crane, the principal. That had been a going joke, and I was right to assume Mrs. Rooney could take it. Hornier, too, she said dropping a hand onto Rose's milky sleeve.

move on...