Incalculable joy and the notion that hog’s breath could be odorless. These were two concepts that Frances could never quite comprehend. How could such a dirty animal have such odorless breath? “Just don’t call me Frances, it sounds like a girl’s name! If you must address me properly, use Elvin, my middle name.”
Frances Elvin Cornwall was the only child born to Frank and Vanessa Cornwall. Far be it from me to determine people’s adequacy as parents, but thankfully the pair decided that raising children was not the proper pastime to involve themselves in. Had they only the premonition to refrain from intimacy, they culled have avoided the act all together.
I first met Elvin (I will use his preferred moniker, lest he roll over in my mind’s eye each time I write it down) in grade school. We used to always end up sitting at the same lunch table. It was not a planned occurrence, but we often traded my home packed treats for his pre-packaged assortment of food high in nutrition and low in taste. I suppose I was sympathetic, or couldn’t bear to see him gag on the daily gruel. Either way, it felt good to share what I had.
To be continued…