With the exception of a new box of Crayolas, Judy thought nothing smelled better than a fresh tablet of construction paper. And she scored the good scissors, not the Lefties with the rounded blades and green handles, nor those made sticky by intemperate use of mucilage or the accumulated exhalations of those Jolly Rancher mouth-breathers seated across from her. She loved the scraping sound of the blades, the yielding crunch of the paper. Her desert-coloured animals leapt from the background, their matching auras so precise she had to paste them in as well. Giraffes entering the gates of Giraffe City. Image courtesy of Kathy Bischoping.
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