She handed me her phone. I pressed play and saw Mr. Lanston sitting upright in his chair. "Shirley, must have handed you the paper by now and I am sur... you have told her that it would not be enough," Lanston said as he coughed and wheezed. "I am off the medication for just over seven hours now, and I can say with a clear mind that I want Derek Youngblood of Freitz Accounting to handle all of my financial affairs from this day forward." I stopped it as the nurse next to Mr. Lanston helped him. I was allowed to look: she was teacher. She stood at the front of the class, twisting herself into a series of crazy postures, which we all struggled vainly, flabbily, to copy. She was perfect. We trembled before her perfection – three old ladies, a skeletal teenager, and me. She didn't seem to notice us: it was as if we were viewing her own private ritual. I stood at the back of the class and stared unashamedly. The whole hour, I gazed at her, willing my miserable self to copy her effortless. More

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