I remember the first time I saw this house. I was driving aimlessly after an especially rough class — the kind of class I’d never experienced before, in which I was verbally attacked by a student. Too upset to go home, I drove and drove, replaying the moments, wondering what I should have done differently.
And then I turned down one last road, and saw this.
The sagging porch, the missing shutters, the empty windows . . . it was reflecting me.