Michael was walking through the mall and walked into his best friend who was walking the other way. Making eye contact, A conversation was started between him and his friend. “How are you?” the latter spoke. “I’m mostly okay,” responded Michael

Going as fast as she could, the girl ran down the road.

The girl ran, as quickly as she could, down the road

Down the road, the girl ran, as fast as she could.

Down the road, as fast as she could, the girl ran.

Running as fast as she could down the road the girl went.

Running, down the road, the girl went as fast as she could.

Running the girl went, down the road.

Trickling between his skinny bandaged fingers, the sand sought to rejoin the rest. The small child giggled as he watched. To his small mind, only two things mattered. Him and the sand. As long as he was inside the restricting walls of worn down oak his mind was rid of worry. The unsafe house, strewn with unhinged doors and nails wanting to meet you. His father who was far from sane, who couldn’t get food on the table. Who drank too much every night and would be submerged by a livid fury when the booze was all drunk and would take out this fiery fury on his seven-year-old, malnourished child. The boy shivered. The sandbox was not intended to house these thoughts.