FaukDane

“David sat in the teacher’s lounge. Two other shlemiels sat on the other side, getting coffee. Sports, movies, conversation. He would have to join the group.
The new assistant principal was to join them this afternoon. Just say hello. He got up and got coffee.
David held the hot coffee and pretended to drink it. Didn’t want to spill on his white shirt.
Then a tall slender woman walked in with the main campus principal, Edmond, and she looked around. Now would come the meet and greet. Fresh meat.
Edmond turned to him. “This is David Bar David, Doctor Bar David. Math.”
The thin woman reached out her hand and David shook it. “My,” she said, “such a warm hand.”
“But a cold heart,” he said.”
― Michael Grigsby, Segment of One

“Dr. Bar David?”
A young man with black eyes and curly hair came toward him. Carrying a digital recorder. He looked familiar.
“Richard Falco, North Richardson High. I took algebra and Calc I from you.”
“Oh, yes, of course. Good to see you.”
“I’m now reporting for Anchor Media. Just started a couple of months ago.”
David started walking away. “Good for you. What a good course of action.”
“Listen, I need to get a couple of quotes anyway. I wonder if—Oh, wait! I’m so sorry. You were at the North Richardson school shooting, five years ago.”
David nodded. And began to panic.
“That’s why you’re here, right?” the stupid student asked. “Protesting gun laws?”
“I really need to be going, now. Good luck with your interviews.” Hyperventilating.
Richard grabbed David’s shoulder. “But Dr. Bar David. Your story, tragic as it is, ends up being the reason for this whole public gun melting, right? A few words from you about—”
David lost it. “Listen! My whole life changed that day. When that meshugener killed my entire family, my wife and my son, in an instant! With a gun he purchased the week before!” David grabbed the kid’s throat. “I do not want to talk about it. Don’t mention me in your article. I will sue you! Leave me alone.”
Richard swallowed and nodded, fast. “Sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry—”
David started shouting, “The bullets! The bullets! The bullets!”
His head pounded. His ears roared.”
― Michael Grigsby, Segment of One

“We give our mistakes too much power. Instead, see a mistake for what it is. It is not the real you… You are more valuable than the opinion others have of you.”
― Gregory Dickow, Soul Cure: How to Heal Your Pain and Discover Your Purpose

“I got in my car and started it up and sighed. The radio station was about to do some Bartok crap and I couldn’t stand that atonal stuff, so I flipped it off. I’d rather head back to my place in silence.”
― Michael Grigsby, Segment of One