Teaching had been a disappointment from the beginning, and Winston Vaughn swore he would quit before the end of the year.

He once dreamed of being a writer. Those who can’t do..., etc., etc.

Last night had been rough. The baby cried, as did his wife, until four. He was in the back of the classroom fighting sleep when Morgan rose for her turn. Her kyrielle sonnet was entitled Sonic Boom, and she read it to the class in her usual milquetoast delivery.

Still, Morgan’s voice galvanized him. Something inside trembled.

He saw her for the first time that day.