He returned and handed her what he said was his last copy of the “finished product.” The front page had a story (written in pencil with the penmanship of a fourth grade boy) about a fireman named Clyde. Morgan sat down at the dining table and read it.
“This is really good, Micah,” she said. “How did you get to know Clyde?”
“He was at the school last Thursday so kids could see his fire truck. I went over and asked some questions about his job.”
She thought about asking Clyde’s last name but didn’t, partly because she was sure Micah didn’t know but mostly because he would have seen right through her and thought she was being critical. The last thing she wanted to do was be critical because she loved his ingenuity.
“Well this is great,” she said, flipping the page over to see what was on
