Should she have attended my lesson about how cartilages wore out at a cellular level with age, she should have had an idea of how brittle her windpipe would sound if I thought of cutting it.
"So... Professor Daniella Jones?"
"It's Daniel."
"Oh, okay. Danielle..."
"No.no.no..." I waved my hand and felt how the shackles around it swung back and forth. I couldn't care much about that though, since I felt the need to send this woman before me back to kinder or maybe back into her momma's womb. "Spanish sounding. Single 'L' no extra 'E'. Da-ni-el." I dragged on my name, exaggerating how my tongue curled with the last syllable.
"Would it be okay to call you, Danny?" her voice came out unexpectedly whole for the first time; I thought somebody else came into that white cube room to speak on h
