A dull pencil is greater than the sharpest memory. - an English proverb
I was running out of ways to explain how a seemingly normal seventeen year old ended up spending a short stint in the mental ward. For that reason, I knew I was going to like my new guardian quite well. He wasn’t one for conversation, and kept to himself more often than not. This proved to be beneficial to me in more ways than one.
“Mr. Rose!” My therapist snapped her stubby fingers in his face the way she’d done to me many times before. Doc Ingrid hated being ignored.
He snapped to attention.