Sallie Ann dusting in her white-collared blue maid’s dress. And I, still in short pants wandered following. A question in mind.
Sallie Ann, down from footstool top-shelf dusting, paused.
I pounced.
Sallie Ann, how come the palms of your hands are white and the top sides brown?
So different.
My hands much the same, one side or the other except for the scar. Hers not. One side mouth-watering chocolate. The other weathered pink earthworm.
Why was that?
Sallie Ann stared at me and left the room.
My eyes welled. I’d done something wrong.
Jim Weddell 