Magic Braided Grass

With the tip of her cheap blue pen, she methodically pushes the small glass beads on her bracelet back and forth, back and forth. She thinks of nothing but feels everything as she sits in room 114A with people who do not love her.

She is not seeing the braided bracelet now as she stares at it. The colorless glass beads were pink at one time. Back in August. Five months ago. Before school started. It will fall off soon. The light brown strands of grass are pulling out of their tight braid and the bracelet is slowly unraveling. The brown grass bracelet, braided and knotted around her left wrist, is magic. When it falls off, her wishes will come true. And it will fall off soon, probably before the class ends.

What will happen when the bracelet stops spooning her watch and falls to the cheap desk with L + T carved into it? When the five tiny glass beads bounce off the desk and on to the linoleum tiles and roll into the corners of the room? Will nobody, not one single person realize what a momentous occasion it is? Will no one realize that all her dreams are about to come true? Will nobody notice that she is about to live happily ever after?

She sighs and watches the second hand on the clock as it makes its lifetime long journey once around. She runs her finger underneath her bracelet as she has countless times in five months. She focuses all her attention on her magic grass bracelet. She knows that a miracle is about to happen and she doesn't want to miss it.

30 November 1995

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