that moment that I was done teaching history. I was going to make some.
I walked into the cafeteria office the next morning before the buses arrived. Brenda, the manager, looked tired. She hates the policy too, but she needs the job.
“Mr. Henderson, if this is about the coffee…”
“It’s about the books, Brenda,” I lied.
I pulled out my wallet. It wasn’t continue reading …
