Dream Another Day-At lunch time _Part 2

PART 2

At lunch time                            

“Pass the salt please,” says Dad the second time, staring at my guest.

I stretch my right hand to the little jar, and pass it on. 

Dream Another Day: the interview

                    The Interview







“How old are you?”
“Seventeen,” I whisper.
“Seventeen years old,” he screams, the pen falling off his hand to the floor.
The madam at the other end, ogles, lifts her eye glasses, then put them back quickly, flipping through the copies of my papers.
“Children learn early this millennium. May be next year, wedding bell will toll.”
They laugh. Then there is quiet. My heart begins to beat fast.