Like a petulant child he snapped. He glanced downwards at the impetuous torrent, which he could perceive shooting past him with lightning swiftness in the gloom. A lot of girls have had it in for him but he must be picky or something because he didn’t go to Junior Prom even though I know he got asked. "And now," she added, with somewhat more composure, "leave me, dear friends, I entreat, for a few minutes to collect my scattered thoughts—to prepare myself for what I have to go through—to pray for my son. She tore open the envelope and read it.
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