Now, he worked as an operations manager for a nationwide moving company,.After service, there was a reception. Ken socialized with everyone as was expected. Donna worked the crowd independent of her husband. The voluptuous, petite bronze-skinned fourth grade teacher once told Ken that she believed a man would be a man and he should just not embarrass her. Thus far, he’d held true to that and she never spent any time following up on his tracks. So, she didn’t really spy Ken chatting with the soloist from earlier.“Hi, I’m Ken. Mrs. Fannie Jean’s my momma,” he stuck out his massive hand. “Nice to meet you! I’m Bennie,” the guy wearing green contacts replied warmly. “Your mom’s a gem!”“Yeah! She sure is something. Thanks a lot for writing that song. You live here?”“Actually, no! I live in Macon.”“I’m in A-T-L.”“Great!”“Yeah! I play the guitar a little bit,” his mind went into overdrive. “You ever collaborate. I wanted to write my wife a song for our anniversary,” he smiled.“That’s very. After the disappearance of my parents 8 years ago, my Aunt had taken me in and looked after me. As my Aunt lived on the other side of the country, this had meant leaving my familiar friends, school, and life behind. Thrust into a new school with its own set of cliques to navigate, it had been the school’s library where I had found solace.It had been a dreary February day; the rain pelting the windows of the hidden reading nook as I broke down and silently wept. A group of girls in my year had cornered me in one of the school’s quieter corridors. They had mocked me for the absence of my parents, claiming they had abandoned me and other such cruel, childish things until they had grown bored with the game and let me go. The school librarian, an elderly man with a kindly smile, had discovered me. Rather that reprimand me for skipping class he had silently left, returning 5 minutes later with a copy of his favourite book and a promise that I could use the space whenever I needed it.I had.
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