Hairy
As we were lined up 6th period waiting for the bell to ring, one of my students began petting my arm. "I like your hair," she said as I pulled my arm away.
"Really?" I asked, thankful she'd stopped petting me. "I think I have too much."
"No, they'd love you in Africa," she replied. That's where she recently came from, so perhaps she would know.
"Maybe I should go to Africa, then," I pondered. The bell sounded and she pet me two more times as if I were a cat.
"I wish you were my brother..." she said as she walked past me and out the door. "...because then I could touch it every day!"
"Really?" I asked, thankful she'd stopped petting me. "I think I have too much."
"No, they'd love you in Africa," she replied. That's where she recently came from, so perhaps she would know.
"Maybe I should go to Africa, then," I pondered. The bell sounded and she pet me two more times as if I were a cat.
"I wish you were my brother..." she said as she walked past me and out the door. "...because then I could touch it every day!"