Before I begin, may I ask how old you are?"
"You may ask."
"How old are you?"
"It's none of your business

Thank you, Yoda. Feel the force, Luke.

Are you asking if I ever spied on you while you were taking a shower?

Laurel, David? Would you like to share the joke with the rest of the class?" he asked, one hand on his skinny hip.
"No, sir," David said. "But thank you for asking." The students around them laughed, but Mr. james didn't look pleased. Laurel leaned back and grinned. David, one. Teacher who wishes he was as smart as David? Zero

I would look up at the moon and see that it was not the smooth orb we had all believed, but a pitted and scarred world with no air.

I sit alone in a dead world. The wind blows hot and dry, and the dust gathers like particles of memory waiting to be swept away. I pray for forgetfulness, yet my memory remains strong, as does the outstretched arm of the oppressive air. It seems as if the wind has been there since the beginning of the nightmare. Sometimes loud and harsh, a thousand sharp needles scratching at my reddened skin. Sometimes a whisper, a curious sigh in the black of night, of words more frightening than pain. I know now the wind has been speaking to me. Only I couldn't understand because I was too scared. I am scared now as I write these words. Still, there is nothing else to do.