"Unbelievable!" gasped Miss Wright, smacking her left hand against her forehead and raking it back through her curly black hair. In her right hand, she held a stack of essays - (college-ruled, double spaced, written in cursive with black ink) | And that's when I fell for her. My essay was top marked. When you write a story about skeletons you expect bottom marks, but she took me by surprise - she actually liked the story! | Time passed and I grew keen, but Miss Wright turned out to be Miss wrong for me as she rejected my advances. The "sting" in the tale was when she implored me not to stand too close to her.