Day 9

9. Got to a hotel lobby and write a story about where the people you see coming in, have come from.

I wont go to a hotel, but I will sit outside my apartment.

One by one they roll in with the wind. Backpacks hanging below their butt's. Someone should tell them they are going to give themselves back problems down the road. When they try and chase after each other the sacks swing uncontrollably. A pencil lost, a notebook meets a puddle. They could care less.

For them, the day has just begun. They sat through hours of confinement. Listening to adults preaching, "this is important" and asking, "can anybody tell me why?" They are free. Fresh off the bus and darting for the courtyard. There they can make their own rules. Decide what is important to them.

When the dinner bell rings they will split up. But only for 20 minutes. Then, its right back to sandbox, or the big tree, or right outside my window. Nerf guns and makeshift swords will be left in the grass, but their imagination will follow them wherever they go.