The Green Hut

It was in the green hut before Tyler's eyes that I first learned to write. We were six, all from different families, wood,. Henry, Blagden, Bose, Leon, and one I forgotten. For every lesson we sat at the same small table. When he wasn't looking over our shoulders, stood behind the workbench on which, twice a week, we learned carpentry. He ate free in my mother's cafe in exchange for his improving my English and making it possible to pass me off as a gentleman boy. You're going to make a mess of your life. Why, sir? Because you can't saw straight. It's difficult to hold, sir