Blue Cotton Work Shirts Stitched Together for a Spring Dance
The crowd turned toward him, glad for the distraction from the quiet standoff in the center of the floor. Gary did not move, his eyes still fixed on the floor boards, his fingers tightly clutching his key fob.
“We are gathered here tonight to celebrate the end of your high school years,” Principal Bradley said, looking out over the crowd of teenagers in their bright silks and rented suits. “But before we begin the dancing, there is a debt of gratitude we must acknowledge.”
He paused, his hand moving to adjust his spectacles once more. He looked down at the paper inside his folder, then looked directly toward the spot where I stood.
“For eleven years, Albert served as the custodian of this school,” the principal said. “Many of you knew him only as the man who swept the halls after the final bell. But some of us knew him differently.”
The room remained completely still. No one stirred.
