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The day after May didn’t come to us, Ob didn’t get out of bed. He didn’t get me up either, and from a bad
dream I woke with a start, knowing things were wrong, knowing that I had missed something vitally important.
Among these, of course, was the school bus. It was Monday, and OB should have called me out of bed at
five-thirty, but he didn’t, and when I finally woke at seven o’clock, it was too late to set the day straight. This is written in this point of view.
What is First Person?