Mr Wong 925-8880

[Ed note: This is one of the stories I have received upon inquiring of the internet, "What think you of Mr Wong?" I think it reads like the beginning of an interesting, slightly melancholy story about revisiting the past. I am stirred and excited particularly by this line: "Tell me about molecular formulas and ideal gases!" -- I feel like it is a kind of summoning, a narrative call to memory's arms. Also, this writer, I learn from reading her charming blog, lives in Albuquerque! I love Albuquerque! I'm going there TODAY, in fact! Isn't that weird?]

Mr Wong 925-8880
by Citizen Beta

I doubt he ever knew that I, or anyone really, thought he was a good teacher. And, now that I think about it, it wasn't that he was a good teacher so much as a really nice guy. I never said a word in his class but I listened pretty hard because I always felt that if I paid enough attention I would glean the meaning of life from his lectures. He was just that serene, that peaceful and his lectures were like some kind of therapy.

And, now everything has really gone to shit and I am in this stinking phone booth (who knew there were even phone booths anymore) and I have his number in my hand and the burning desire to call him, to hear his voice after eight years. Talk to me about the periodic table of elements, combustion, synthesis. Tell me about molecular formulas and ideal gases! I remember Boyle's Law, I do! I am in need of order, predictability, but am afraid there is none.

Isn't it strange where we seek comfort?