[3] The Recoil

"When you drop to the floor, the gun slides from your hand.

Your mind opens, and your heart, it shatters again.

The recoil of the pistol, not much to compare.

But still just alike, the tarnish and tear.

The pain you received from a single bullet

Cannot even come close

To the shame you have known.

The hurt in your eyes

Now means nothing to me

For you're a lost cause

Afloat in the sea."

The class clapped as I nodded to them and handed Ms. Benson my paper.

After class she pulled me aside. "Raelynn, your work is amazing."

"Thank you, ma'am," I said, turning to leave.

"I'm not finished," she said, turning me back with a hand on my shoulder. "I would like you to prepare more works like these-" She pointed to my paper. "-and I want you to read them at the end of class each day. You'll start reading Monday. I'll see you Thursday."

I smiled at her. "Okay."

"Get to class," she called, walking away.

I smiled.

It'll be okay.

It's not okay.

But it'll be okay.