“You know,” he said as we made it to a quieter neighbourhood, “we did a test on feelings at school the other day.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked.

“I got one answer wrong.”

“What was the question?”

“How would you feel if three of your friends all got new bikes and you didn’t?”

“Wow, what a coincidence. What did you say?”

Nothing happened that evening. No ambulance appeared on a lightless stretch of country road inhabited mostly by crossing foxes and raccoons. No call was made to any next of kin. 

She sauntered left out of the two-car driveway and ducked under the serrated edges of the American basswood tree that would lead her to Huckleberry Blvd. and ultimately into the pine forest. Humming the chorus of Here Comes the Sun and never getting to the verse, she was as happy as the caterpillar she narrowly avoided crushing.

Historically, I’ve enjoyed the use of sarcasm as a means of making a point. The more egregious the sarcasm, the more it resonated with me.

But I don’t feel that way about sarcasm anymore.

It’s my opinion that the past isn’t set in stone; it’s malleable.

Reflecting helps you to develop your skills and review their effectiveness, rather than just carry on doing things as you have always done them.

Don’t forget, Writers, that you can each create your own world. You are decorating the house that you are inviting readers into.