Hatred spiked as she looked at the single piece of paper
Ordinarily inanimate objects did not suffer her wrath
Perhaps if it didn’t have those words and symbols on it
Eventually those very words scrambled her brain
Leaving her feeling lost amongst a future sea of red ink
Eyes fluttered skyward, but no divine help was forthcoming
Shifting in her seat gave didn’t give her any new insight
Suffering silently she wondered how bad it would be to ask if they wanted fries with that
Facts and figures spun and danced in front of Maryann’s eyes. She was great at math, but she hated it.
Her father tried to convince her that math could be beautiful. She wouldn’t believe him. After all, why would someone like math who worked on making sure the grass in left field was trimmed to the perfect height. He showed her the analytical side of baseball, how she could use her ability to simulate games, just like this one.
As the ump called strike three Maryann smiled and settled back in her seat. Okay, maybe hate was a strong word.