i often thought i might have a little writer on my hands . that 's more than the nickel i had when i started . i do n't want to pry when he seems reluctant to tell me what 's going on . actually , im glad you did it . i sat in the uncomfortable seat staring out the window , watching the town that i grew up in pass by . my head snaps around when the bell dings : prayers are five minutes away , followed directly by bed . how could he forget a spoken doom ? 