Skin I'm In, the
“Like how wonderful their children are, or how big their house is, or what a quiet, pretty neighborhood they live in. It’s Miss Saunders’s turn, I guess. She comes in telling us she’s late because her toilet ran over and she had to clean her white carpets before they got stained. Like we really care.
She presses her hands against her gray pinstriped pants suit, then pulls the jacket sleeves down. No gold bracelet today, just a watch on one arm and a thin gold necklace around her neck.
Miss Saund...ers is a motion machine this morning. She sets down her briefcase, throws her black bag into the closet up front, slaps her hands together like giant paddles, and tells everybody to get quiet.
Then she fans herself with her hand. ″My landlord had to come over.″ She’s opening and closing drawers looking for who knows what. ″I am never late, you guys know that.″ Now she’s fingering the chalk. Pacing the room. There’s sweat on her face. She leans herself against the desk and rubs her chin like she’s trying to find lost words.MoreLess
She presses her hands against her gray pinstriped pants suit, then pulls the jacket sleeves down. No gold bracelet today, just a watch on one arm and a thin gold necklace around her neck.
Miss Saund...ers is a motion machine this morning. She sets down her briefcase, throws her black bag into the closet up front, slaps her hands together like giant paddles, and tells everybody to get quiet.
Then she fans herself with her hand. ″My landlord had to come over.″ She’s opening and closing drawers looking for who knows what. ″I am never late, you guys know that.″ Now she’s fingering the chalk. Pacing the room. There’s sweat on her face. She leans herself against the desk and rubs her chin like she’s trying to find lost words.MoreLess
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