By Monday, I was feeling better and speaking again. It didn’t happen very often that I was literally struck dumb. I’d had episodes of silence after regaining my speech when I was younger. Typically it was because of something traumatic. And yes, Friday night’s argument could be considered a form of trauma.
At school, I worked with toddlers on forming the letters of the alphabet. They learned quickly and it was always a joy to experience their energy. Loralei, the director of the school, called me into her office at one in the afternoon.
“How are you, Woodrow? You seem a little out of sorts today.”
Loralei had been my teacher when I was a student there and had recommended me for the staff, once I’d graduated with my degree. “I had an episode this weekend. It set me back for a couple of d
