Excuses Misconstrued

I sat on a collapsing plastic chair, asking a nine-year-old about her health and pubertal development. At the end of the interview I took out the regalitos and laid them across my lap. I told her to pick out a pair of shorts or a skirt, whatever she wanted, for her monthly cooperation. I glanced up and realized there was a giant white rabbit with red eyes sitting on my co-worker’s knees. The rabbit’s owner seemed to be the chubby and outspoken eight-year-old girl to my left who was watching the proceedings closely. She saw me looking. “Do you want to hold the rabbit?”

I gestured to my lap, still full of very small clothes, “No, thank you, not right now.”

A confused look. “Are you sick? Is that why you don’t want to touch the rabbit?” 

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