Hope & Ray Story #3 (an excerpt)
The Pencil that Joined the Circus
Hope was doodling in the margin of her notes. She was supposed to be underlining the names of historical treaties. Instead, she was drawing an octopus riding a skateboard.
Next to her, Ray was highlighting methodically, his neon yellow line uncannily straight. It was kind of impressive. Also kind of annoying.
Hope sighed, shifted, and accidently dropped her pencil.
It clattered to the floor, rolled three rows forward, and bumped against someone’s backpack. She froze.
Ray didn’t even look up. “Ah,” he said. “The ceremonial pencil sacrifice.”
Hope pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh.
“It’s the official offering to the history gods,” he added. “May they grant us clarity and slightly shorter assignments.”
That did it. Hope snorted.
WHAT THIS SAYS ABOUT STRENGTH
Strength isn’t always loud. Sometimes it’s a glance. A small joke. A pencil clattering across the floor and two people laughing like they’ve been doing it forever.
