A rainy morning gives hope that perhaps a change of seasons might not be far behind. I arrive at the school just a few minutes late. The dirt next to the van is soft, almost but not quite mud, enough to stick to my shoes and flick on my toes. I go to the gate, and it is locked. I peer through the fence, and see a few lights but not many for this dim day. I walk the perimeter of the fence and round the corner, stepping carefully to check the second entrance. It too is secure. I can see not a soul on the property. I leave, wondering what I missed in translation.
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