Read the excerpt from the beginning of a story. Just as I had done every morning since they were old enough to attend school, I walked my brothers down the short path from our home in town to the one-room schoolhouse on the edge of the prairie. We talked about the Johnsons’ dog, who had shown up after being gone for over a month, and the adventures she must have had. We talked about the unseasonably cool September we were enjoying, and how it was a relief from the brutal heat of the month before. There was one thing we were not talking about: this would be the last morning I would walk them to school. Later this afternoon, I would be leaving our small town to go to college in the city. The closer we got to the school, the more slowly we walked, grief seeming to weigh down our steps.