The End of Summer

It is my end of summer of ritual. Some people take a vacation; others take the family to the State Fair, but I enroll for my annual training. It is a day when those of us at the bottom gather for a story. Some are ready to suspend disbelief, others of us lean toward literary criticism. In reality, however, it is little more than a compulsory day with someone else's knee is in my back that they may pursue the approval of another; one whose disinterest could not be more self-evident.