Her Teacher grown weary with wrinkles upon her face so deep as they may reach her skin, all the same she was sweet and thought of Clara too much. No other teachers looked at her she never raised a hand and got decent grades why should anyone care. But no that one teacher , she cared and maybe too much and there was but one feature that overjoyed dear Clara was that her teachers eyes were not of the deep blue hue of everyone else around her but a deep faded brown, very deep. Faded but so lucid. And all the time that the woman had chased her never once did Clara stop to think and ask herself what the does some old woman want from me?

The teacher asked too many questions and always even after the first months of school kept her name on the board in large cursive letters “Ms. McLeod” a name that was vaguely familiar to Clara.