As the night arrives, a door closes. To her left, a chest breathes deeply
The little one wakes up from her false slumber
Mischief shines in her eyes as she slips her dancing fingers under the pillow cover
A lone street light shines through the window pane as she hears the favourite sounds of her world. A binding opening. The crinkle of paper
Her eyes squint, her mind quiets
Silence
Clock ticking to six, one ear listening at the door for the bell. Another pair of eyes peering through the window. Will it be the top of the head that'll appear first or the face through the door? Shushing sounds and hand gestures. Turning the television off. Cool cloth to hide its warmth
One little set of feet run back to arrange books. One little face puts on a smile
Who will walk in today? A smile? A frown? A mask? Do you feel the simmering rage? Or a lack of air? Maybe the shoulders are relaxed today
Open sesame
Why does my heart beat so? Why do my palms sweat? Which face do I put on today?
I hope my performance is perfect