dream_classmate epitome of incomprehensibility I'm employed as some kind of activity director, and today I'm working at a high school. At lunch, I'm sitting next to a woman who's a mix of Stella from my earlier attempt at a novel and Stephanie from my high school. We're talking and reminiscing about times past real or imaginary, when suddenly I say, "Wait a minute, how come you're in high school? Didn't you graduate years ago?" She laughs. "I'm a teacher here." (That would explain it.) 260703 ... raze he's written a book about what his body does when he's too nervous to keep it in check. he picks through the pages like he's never read them before. this is the last time we'll sit beside each other. he transfers to another class, complete with a teacher who knows how to pronounce his last name. now he'll be comfortable raising his hand when he has to use the bathroom, negating the need for his autobiographical novel. i write him something on a lined yellow post-it note. all my e's are backwards threes. he reads the first few words aloud in a voice that makes me jump. the rest he saves for himself. 260704 what's it to you? who go blather from