The pen bothered
me. So I asked him about it. “Where’d
you get this pen again?” It was fat and
full of multi-colored ink cartridges.
The strange animal
character on the screen jumped over a crumpled brick wall with an appropriate boing sound. “I found it,” he answered.
“Oh. Okay.”
I walked into the hallway. But I
wanted to know more, so I asked, “Where?”
“School, I think,” he shouted from the other
room.
“Okay.” But I still didn't remember. I knew I remembered at one time—and that was
the worst part.
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