When his wife died, Cedric had a yearning that caught him off-guard. Never in a million years would he… Or would he? For Pete’s sake; what harm would it do?
So, he stood at the backdoor, key in hand. He turned. Surveyed the parking lot. Only his shit Yugo—parked in his usual spot. No one to witness his illicit actions, the result of frozen dinners for one in a never-ending summer… Quit ruminating. And tie your shoe, dear! Alma. Still nagging from beyond.
He opened the door to a blast of heat and annoying chirp of crickets. In broad daylight, too, which was odd. He’d only ever noticed them at home when he was ensconced in something that required complete silence—like sleeping… or he and Alma watching Matlock. But only the original, dear.
Chirping aside, he proceeded with his plan and stepped onto faded linoleum. The smell hit him right away. Notes of chalk dust and industrial-strength cleanser, stale coffee and fresh baked yeast rolls—like Mother baked when he was a young boy and company visited on holidays.
His Converse Chucks squeaked, one shoelace dragging, as he surveyed his kingdom and twenty-five years slapped him like a jilted lover. Echoes of locker doors opening and slamming shut, uproarious laughter… and, of course, nonstop running in the halls.
Sure, there were hard times, and Admin had all but sucked the life out of the job; but there were great times too. That lightbulb moment when a kid finally “got it.” That made it worthwhile.
Cedric wandered down hallways, stopping to peek into his classroom. Desks formed a perfect grid and white chalk alongside erasers lined the tray beneath the blackboard. His final words, still there in all caps!
ENJOY YOUR SUMMER, KIDDOS!
(& your summer reading—Mr. Smith)
A usual salad
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