The Verdict

I had spent weeks writing, trying to capture her on paper. I changed it and rewrote it over and over again just to say what I wanted to say, to give it the feeling I wanted it to give. All those days spent wracking my brain, all those pages of paper, all the hard work and effort came down to this, THE VERDICT.

I watched her while she was reading. She smiled at the beginning, but her face lost all expression until she finished. As she looked up at me across the room, a visage of astonishment fell like a veil over her face. Her eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped slightly agape. She mouthed something but I could not catch what she said because someone walked between us.

As she made her way across the room, she became slightly flushed. She stood a few feet away staring at the paper. She glanced up several times while trying to collect her thoughts, yet the words continued to miss her mouth and lodge in her throat.

When she regained her tongue she relieved the terrible anxiety I felt: butterflies, shortness of breath, sweaty palms, and all the blood racing from my heart to my head. All the symptoms of am oral bookreport disappeared. Everything vanished with three little words, "I loved it!"

She loved it! Thank, God. She said that I had expressed what she was trying to say in her biopoem. She was very flattered and wished to know why I had picked her. She thanked me greatfully when I told her she could keep the paper for herself.

I was washed over with a sense of pride and accomplishment. The response I received lifted me higher than any drug ever could. It was more fulfilling than any grade I have ever received.
[Thanks, Shelbie.]