So Saturday came, and I woke up nice and early to go to the football match. Normally, I’d be excited, but today my stomach clenched and I felt tired before the game even began.
‘I just have to make it through this,’ I told myself. ‘It’s half term afterwards and then I can have a proper rest.’
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‘You have such soft hands,’ she said.
‘You like that?’
‘Yes.’ She moved her thumb over the back of my hand, but she continued to look in my eyes. ‘And your lips are, too…’
I leant forward, ready to kiss her.
And then the door to her apartment flew open.
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Once there was a young boy called Lyman. He worked in the field and looked after the sheep. He was a shepherd. His father was a shepherd, and his grandfather was a shepherd and his grandfather’s father was a shepherd. Everyone told Lyman, ‘One day, you will be a great shepherd.’ But Lyman didn’t want to be a shepherd. He wanted to be a hunter. Hunters fought wolves, and they were big and strong. Shepherds weren’t big and strong.
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