Broken Glass
Randy L. White | Hong Rui Choo
After reading the many heroic adventures of the Invincible Eagle Man, I decided to fly down to my friend Steve’s house on my bike. Naturally, he had gone to the dentist.
Retreating to my bike at the curb, I watched a little girl — no more than five years old, long blond hair, and wearing a dull, blue dress. She bent down and grabbed something sharp. The bright autumn sun gleamed off the shard of glass in her hand.
“Hey, watch out!” I yelled, flying down to her rescue.
The little girl looked up at me running toward her and turned away.
“Be careful!” I shouted. Hopping over the broken remains of a soda bottle, I grabbed at the shard of glass, and it sliced into my thumb just above the knuckle; blood showered the leaves along the curb.
“Wow!” the little girl gasped. She dropped the broken glass and ran away.
“Ouch!” I cried painfully, dropping my shoulders, disappointed because Eagle Man never felt such defeat.
