Wayne enters. The room is tiny. One large room, 12 desks, a wood-burning stove in the corner, a blackboard, an American flag, and at the back, the projector mounted on a table, with 10 film canisters stacked beside it.
Did you receive everything I sent you?
Margaret cannot speak, she can only nod.
Wayne walks over to the projector and touches it.
—Have you been using it every Friday?
Margaret finally manages to say:
—The children eagerly await it all week.
Wayne turns to the students: 12 pairs of eyes fixed on him; some scared, some excited, all incredulous.
—I received your letter, from all of you. Thank you for what you wrote. It meant a lot.
A small voice from the front row:
—Did you read my sentence?
Wayne looks. A girl, maybe seven. Blonde braids. Sarah.
—Yes, I read it. You said I’m the bravest cowboy. It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.
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