Three
	Victor opened the door, and was instantly hit by the memories of his childhood, flooding through his mind like water through a broken dam.
	He was 5 years old, his mother leading him off to his first day of Kindergarten. V was nervous, but curious about all these “new friends” his mother had told him were waiting for him there. His mother was really the only friend he’d ever had, so he imagined it was full of nice ladies like her, making him sandwiches and singing him songs and telling him stories about knights and princesses in castles far away.
	It was later that same day, his mother carrying V’s sobbing self through the door, having found out the hard way that calling your teacher “mommy” was a great way to get laughed at by all the mean boys and girls in his class.
	It was the day of the school play, and V’s mother was dragging him out the door so he could be a tree, silent and still in front of the rest of his class. It was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do, stand in front of all those faces, waiting for V to cough or sneeze so they could laugh at him. In the end, he broke down crying before showtime, and the play had to go on without a tree, to young V’s great relief.