By Lorraine McLeod
Copyright 2012 Lorraine McLeod
I don’t want to be here on my own, she shouldn’t have left me, especially as I’m not allowed to use the key.
“Don’t touch the key” she said. “Don’t touch the key, and I’ll be back soon.”
A long list of instructions. Don’t touch the key, don’t go outside, don’t let anyone in, and once again, don’t touch the key.
I can’t see why I’m not allowed. I’ve been paying attention, I know what to do. Some teacher she is when she won’t even let me try. I’m supposed to sit here and read the ‘Book of Always’. I’m sick of it. I throw it across the room and it hits the window before it falls to the floor. Nothing to do but study the books, look out of the window, and watch the eternal stars. And there it is on the table, the imaginary table whose only purpose is to hold the key.