Blue Ships Publishing

“She would be hot if she didn’t remind me of my mother. You ever feel that way Ms. Kinnington? I first realized I was in love with Mrs. Evans during lunch…”

I tried to bury my hatred of life as Andrew came to me with yet another lover’s pursuit that would undoubtedly end in heartache. This month’s endeavor? The lunch lady, a woman who, while reasonably healthy, and possibly pretty if her beauty weren’t weighed down by a hairnet and an apron two sizes too big, was in her late 50’s. Andrew had just turned 17 a week ago. He invited me to his birthday party. Andrew doesn’t seem to understand. I’m not his friend; I’m the school counselor.