Through the Looking Glass (Greenwood Pizza)

Beautiful but Unlikely

greenwood pizza

My palms were red and burned from all the clapping. If I had wanted to be first out of the block, however, I was too late, for after having taken several questions, one or two cripplingly cynical, the speaker was now shaking hands and talking to the lingering audience. The boy standing there next to him wasn’t about to let go either, I could tell—the boy with his head in the stars, looking up to Ross, eyes burning bright. He stood ready to pounce every time anyone paused for breath, and I disapproved of him, his clod-hopping eagerness trampling over the fine nobleness that had been conjured here tonight. The man at the center of it all patiently listened to, spoke with everyone in turn, his manner grave and polite, his actual thoughts about it all unreadable.

There were only a few stragglers left when I got up to leave…

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