More than art

by Tom Richmond III—Michigan

It was my second day at my second real job in my life. The day was brisk, a foreshadow of work to come. After a knock and a ring, the door was opened by a middle-aged woman. The rap went well, and I had the pleasure of an audience with her son front row. As she was flipping through my clipboard, the son handed me a folded note, saying “here, this is for you.” Inside I found a drawing of a cartoon character—hair all aflame with a teen angst look about him. I said “is this me?” All he could respond with was a smile, then he ran off. His mother noticed. She took my pen and signed up, saying “we need more people like you out here.”

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