What Susan noticed first was the purse.
Susan always noticed them. She prided herself on having the most unique purse at any event. She had learned early that if she didn’t want to be known as Susan The Deaf Girl, she had to be memorable in some other way.
Miracle lay in the prickly grass stalks. She scrunched her fingers in the cool dirt and took slow, deliberate breaths to absorb the brown, earthy scent of autumn. And she listened. The wind rustled the seed-heavy grass heads swaying above. A tree creaked nearby. Apple and pear floated on the breeze,
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The City Hall walls are made entirely of glass. The sun pierces through, warming my back.
It would be a beautiful day if not for the two security guards pointing tasers at my face.
City Hall’s hustle lurches into slow motion. The second hand on the clock could race a snail,
