On the day that Salinger diedI wore slippers to work
and snapped at a girl
for her incessant
audible sigh of
annoyance.
I do not think she even hears herself. But I do. Every time.
I told her that if she made one more negative remark
she would be welcome to leave class and take a seat outside
by the fountain.
That is what happened on the day Salinger died.
*Also, I felt the thrill of being loved and could barely wake up from a necessary nap.
