A NovelBook - 2019
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So many ways Noah couldn’t protect this boy; it was like traveling with a bag of bananas he had little chance of delivering unbruised.
The perpetual, cruel dynamics of childhood; every tall poppy slashed down.
Students were harder to impress since the turn of the millennium; they sat there with their external brains, their little screens, ready to fact-check you if you fumbled a formula.
Weren't all of us bridges for each other, one way or another? Just a few years, fingers crossed, till Amber got out of prison. It wasn't a matter of Noah planting any olive trees, at this point, just watering one sapling, attempting to shield it from hard winds.
And then it struck him that it was really the other way around. This boy was saving Noah. rescuing him from the trap of habit, the bleak tedium of counting down the years of his retirement. Michael was the little ark, crazily bobbing, in which one lucky old man could go voyaging.
"Did it exist a hundred years ago?" "Maybe," the boy said, pressing buttons.
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