She would swear that she’d heard her eyes scream at the thought of putting her contact lenses in this morning. After only five hours of sleep last night, the insides of her eyelids had taken on the consistency of coarse-grit sandpaper. But with only two tests remaining to be graded, she might be able to get all of her grades recorded before the noon deadline and take a nap this afternoon. “Knock, knock.” Sassy’s white hair appeared between the balusters of the railing that lined the opening for the stairs at the other end of Caylor’s office. She peeked over the rim of the floor. Caylor turned down the instrumental movie sound-track playlist running on the computer. She’d been playing it louder than usual, trying to drown out the song “Gary, Indiana” from last fall’s production of The Music Man, which had decided to reprise, repeatedly, in her head today. “Come on up, Sassy.” Her grandmother came up the remaining few steps, a basket filled with something that smelled absolutely wonderful cradled in one arm, a coffee mug in her other hand.
What do You think about The Art Of Romance (2011)?
