too, so that it all evens out.”
John sighed through his nose, but seemed pacified.
Just then Lindy stepped up again, standing beside Mr. Poole. She reached over him and dipped the wick of a fresh candle into one of the lit ones already on the table, then brought the new flame to rest in front of Mr. Poole.
“There you are,” Mr. Palterman said. “That should help you to stay a little bit warmer, don’t you think?”
“I—” Mr. Poole paused, feeling the surprising warmth from the little candle against his face. “Yes, actually. Thank you.”
“And here’s a robe,” Lindy said. “Just be careful of the flame when you put it on.”
Mr. Poole pursed his lips as he looked at the folded robe. It smelled nice—like it had just come out of the dryer. He reached out and felt it—it was soft and warm, too. Perhaps it really had just come off a tumble cycle.
His chair squeaked as he pushed it back from the table, lifting the robe in both hands.
They were talking about budget issues, after all. Odd as this was, it couldn’t be sinister if the meat of the meeting was as mundane as budget cuts.
He pulled the robe on over his clothes, tugging at it until it rested around him from his shoulders to his feet, warm and loose.
When he’d seated himself again, he saw that Mr. Palterman was eyeing him, as if waiting for something. When he didn’t continue with the budget-cut discussion, Mr. Poole said, “Thank you for the robe. I think I’m all ready now.”
“Actually, would you mind just….” Mr. Palterman tugged the edge of his own hood, then nodded his head sideways, as if admitting that it was strange. “We’ve just discovered that they help us to stay more focused on the meeting if we all have them up. Kind of tunnels are attention, if you get me.”
“Oh, right,” Mr. Poole said. Then, with only a second’s hesitation, he reached back and pulled the hood up over his head.
“Alright then, where were we…?” Mr. Palterman said as he looked over the papers in front of him. “Right, budget cuts. Okay, so I want you all to know that I fought this, right? I don’t like it any more than the rest of you.”
And so Mr. Poole sat in the darkness among the nearly two dozen other teachers and staff of Shady Junior High, a hood around his head, a candle flickering before him, talking about what the next schoolyear held in store for them and their students.
THE END
Dear Reader,
I hope that you found this story entertaining, wherever it happened to find you. If you enjoyed it, please leave a favorable review on Amazon and check out my other writings. As an author, I depend upon people like you.
Thank you.
Chauncey Rogers.
About the Author
Chauncey Rogers was raised in Arizona and Missouri. He served for two years as a missionary in Los Angeles, CA. He graduated from Brigham Young University with degrees in history education, linguistics, and editing. He is happily married, has two children, and dreams of owning a pet rat.
Go to chaunceyrogers.com for more stories from Shady Hollow, and for his other works.
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