Forgiveness

A small classroom.
Chalkboard in the front.
Dust on all the desk.
One of the rusted, unbalanced chairs
Is occupied by a guilt-driven boy.
Writing his name in the dust of the desk,
He looks at the chalkboard.
The once erased chalkboard,
Is now full of white, chalky writing.
You fool.
You cheater.
You drunk.
Just of the few slanderous phases written.
The boy breaks down.
His knees hitting the dirt covered floor,
Making a billow of smoke float up.
Once his knees hit, the boy cries out,
Because he knows they are all true.
Every one of them.
A man walks in from the back of the classroom.
Dust clouds form with every step of his sandals.
Walking up to the chalkboard, head shaking,
He picks up the eraser.
One by one, he erases the phases.
He picks up the the white chalk,
And writes one word.
Walking up to the boy,
He helps him up.
Wipes the dust off his clothes,
And leads him out of the classroom.
With one look back,
The boy sees the one word the man wrote.
Forgiveness.