I’m no good with numbers.
They confuse me; they all look alike. Get them together in a crowd and I can’t tell the 6 from the 8, the 2 from the 7, the 5 from the 9. Probably I am a bigot. A number bigot.
I remember a moment of sheer panic in first grade when I realized I’d forgotten how to draw a 5. Try as I might, I couldn’t get it right. It was too short, somehow. I wanted to die. I just knew they were going to kick me out of school for such a display of stupidity. They probably should have. Directly over the chalkboard, running the circumference of the room, were all the letters and numbers …
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