She woke in decent spirits, only a nagging urge to use the bathroom. Rolling from the bed as only a spry seven-year old can. One hand swipes away the sleep from the corner of her almond-shaped eyes. The other hand, after walking the few paces to the door, fell upon the knob. Fingers curled about the dull brass, twisting then jerking. Realization quickly sets in as she begins to do her little jig. This dance has become routine, executed with a dancer’s ability as her hand slips up from the doorknob and curls into a small fist, which begins to bang on the door.
“Dad. Daaaaaaaad? Daddy! I gotta go, please.”
The continuous banging of her fist accompanied by the panic edged voice is the perfect cacophony to awaken even the dead. Apparently, this usual morning routine has once more paid off as she hears a familiar footfall followed by the scraping of the small latch being unhinged. She steps back and crosses her legs and buries her hands between her thighs as she waits for the door to push inwards allowing her escape to the bathroom less than 300 feet away. He says nothing as her eyes settle upon him then dart to the bathroom door. He steps left and she sprints across the hall to find relief.
As she finishes, washing her hands then brushing her teeth, she hears him move back into his room. Drying her hands off before returning to her room she smiles to herself glad to be free and hear the familiar noises of him picking out his suit for the day. She crosses back to her room and begins digging through drawers to find something to wear.
It makes no difference anyhow, all the kids at school shun her. Even though she wore the best of all brands and tried to be friendly she always found herself the victim of ridicule and loneliness. She never quite figured out why but it never stopped her from thinking that today would be the day she made it through a whole day of school happy and content.
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Photo Credit: James Jean