I went to the Art Institute in Chicago today. I stopped in front of the Marc Chagall stained glass window display. The sun was streaming through the blue panes onto my skin. I felt like the sky had come down and was giving me a hug. Some tears came to my eyes.
I thought, “Oh, no. This can’t be good.”
I tried to soak up the tears with my jacket sleeve.
I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and it was the ghost of Chagall.
He said, “I cried the whole time I was working on that piece.”
I said, “That was okay because you were alone in your studio. I’m embarrassed about crying in public.”
He said, “Oh.” I could tell he didn’t know what to say. He slunked off around the corner.
I felt badly. It can be really hard getting along with others.
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