Carol

“I don't know if I've ever really touched him. Maybe once or twice when passing papers back. You know, even shorter, his hair looks so soft. Maybe it's time I rub it a little. So I can give more concrete details.

I stretch my hand across my desk, but stop when I realize the horror of what I was about to do. Pet Sean. Have I lost my mind?”
― Lindsey Leavitt, Sean Griswold's Head

“I would be lying if I said I didn't get a kick out of the assignment. Here I am, a "troubled youth," and my self-chosen treatment is to become a stalker. Okay, not stalker. Research Analyst.”
― Lindsey Leavitt, Sean Griswold's Head

“He said focus. The word focus. I hear angels singing. Everything goes dark except for a light that beams down on Sean. It is a God-given sign- like when people see the Virgin Mary in their grilled cheese, except this isn't religious and I'm actually not a big fan of dairy. I stare at the back of his head. His HEAD. Something I see every day but never really see because it's been there forever. Since the first day of third grade.

I crumple up my web. I don't need it. Praise be, the Focus Gods have spoken.

I am going to write about Sean Griswold's Head.”
― Lindsey Leavitt, Sean Griswold's Head

“Everything they've said is tainted now. Every day was a lie.”
― Lindsey Leavitt, Sean Griswold's Head