In the early morning hours, Bessie lies on top of her quilt, wide awake. The humidity is stifling. She thinks about turning on the fan that sits on a side table when she hears the typewriter keys began to tap-tap-tap.
tap-tap-tapShe jumps out of bed to sit at her desk with a smile. Looking down at the piece of paper, she reads out loud, “Well, that sure was a close call, my little mushroom.”
Well, that sure was a close call, my little mushroomQuickly, she types back, “Mel? Is that you?”
Mel? Is that you?The keys fly up and down. “Who do you think it is? Santa Claus?”
Who do you think it is? Santa Claus?She responds, “Just making sure. Could be Angel Rocco, ha-ha.”
Just making sure. Could be Angel Rocco, ha-ha“Your teacher at the Seventh Seal Flight Academy. I remember it well. You and
