The giant yellow bus swallowed my children one morning.
“They are the most precious little people I could ever hope to know”, I thought.
I chugged off up the street after them on my walk, swinging my arms, sputtering and puffing through clouds of exhaust and fading grade-school war cries.
I had been suffering a self-imposed, stress-induced madness and really wanted to find a way to clear it. I thought walking and breathing would help.
It didn’t.
Instead, it went a little something like this:
“Oh Shit! . . .
