"Bib! Bib?" His classmates heckled. "What kind of a name is that? Stupid."
Bib didn't care. He had friends and a great family.
Clink, clink, clink. It was two degrees below zero as Bib meandered across the playground. He liked to kick chunks of ice as he walked. They would clink and rattle and eventually shatter. No matter. There was plenty of ice. There was a comfort in kicking the ice. Other kids talked and played with friends, Bib knew that, and there was a feeling that he should be doing that too. But the little chunks, the repetitiveness, the...
Some time, a long time later Bib sat in a flexible, black plastic chair. It would flex slightly. Bib rocked nervously, remembering the ice of his youth. "Now," He thought, "The ice is gone." It felt like he couldn't focus, like he had a brain cloud if there was such a thing. His body ached. A feeling would swell up in his chest, almost in his lungs. Everything seemed awful. He knew it wasn't true, that he should be feeling differently.
Things will change, there is hope. Bib knows.
By the way Bib changed his last name to Jefferson. It used to be Granger.
the end
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