This covers the week of 2/2/20 - 2/8/20.
A girl riding on her dad's shoulders raises her pink mittens to a drizzly sky.
The sunlight crackles on salt-encrusted streets.
The gutters are belching litter into a foul-smelling wind.
She has no illusions about what she'll learn. She has little hope that she'll do better. The next few hours are just a way to pass the time.
They fall back on what sound like programmed responses. A "hm" in response to an observation. A tiny set of one-word answers to any questions you may have. Chunks of your own speech echoed at you. Their eyes drift to a wall, a window, and rest expressionlessly.
She thinks of how to make every corner of her home more lovely. The flowers I come across while climbing the stairs make me smile.
"I don't belong in school," she says. But where does she belong? She doesn't know. Maybe there's a quiet room somewhere with a door that locks, a pair of ear buds, and a phone.