Ask a Question
In the charming town of Maplewood, nestled among green hills, stood a quaint bookstore called "Whispers of the Past." Its owner, Mr. Finch, was a warm-hearted man with a talent for storytelling that captivated children every Saturday afternoon.
One bright Saturday, Lily, a shy girl with curly brown hair and oversized glasses, ventured into the store for the first time. She settled on a colorful rug, her heart racing with excitement and nerves. Mr. Finch welcomed the children with a smile, announcing, “Today, we’ll explore the power of questions.”
Lily listened as her classmates raised their hands, asking questions like “What’s the biggest animal in the world?” and “Why is the sky blue?” Each inquiry led to a magical tale, drawing laughter and gasps from the group.
But Lily held back, fearing her questions might sound silly. She wondered why stories could evoke such deep emotions, why they could make people laugh, cry, or feel comforted. As Mr. Finch concluded his stories, he looked around, encouraging the children. “Every question is important. Don’t be afraid to ask.”
Gathering her courage, Lily raised her hand. “Mr. Finch, why do stories make us feel so much?” Her voice trembled, but the room fell silent, eyes turned toward her.
Mr. Finch’s eyes sparkled with delight. “That’s a wonderful question, Lily! Stories touch our hearts because they mirror our experiences and emotions. They connect us to one another, teaching us empathy and understanding. When we engage with a story, we embark on a journey alongside the characters.”
Lily felt warmth spread through her as her classmates nodded, a sense of belonging washing over her. Encouraged by Mr. Finch’s response, she decided to embrace her curiosity.
From that day forward, Lily became more confident in asking questions, eager to explore the world around her. Each Saturday, she returned to the bookstore, knowing that every question would lead her to new adventures and discoveries.
As the sun set over Maplewood, casting a golden glow on the town, Lily walked home, her heart brimming with the magic of stories and the endless possibilities that come from simply asking a question.
Should I Ask?
"There is no such thing as a dumb question."
That's what teachers, supervisors, and lecturers told me.
When no one in my work group posed a question, my boss added, "Don't be shy. There's no judgment. No one to stop you from asking anything."
A few giggles surfaced, reminding me of the ridicule and judgment that I risked.
So I kept my question to myself:
"Is there such a thing as a dumb answer?"
whats your favorite soda
My mama always told me when you finish a soda can
you pull off the tab
back and forth
does she love me
does she love me not
obviously you need a name and face in mind
and love is costly
so if she loves you
you have to shake the can until the tab comes out
theres got to be twenty girls ive tried it on
none of them loved me
it may sound stupid
but maybe it gives me hope
ive know that the can can lie
but it never has and never will
so maybe one day the soda tab will fall ever so perfectly into the can
but until then
I guess I just have to drink a lot of soda
What is wrong with me? Why do I feel like writing words for challenges has more likelihood of success than applying to actual jobs? Why is selling writing so much easier than filling out resume after resume? Why is writing cover letter so much more boring than writing responses to prompts? Why is asking questions more fun than answering them? Will I really try to write a novel in November? Why am I exhausted? Will I ever actually succeed at finding a way to make money despite the statistics being against me, the system of interviews and networks not meant for autistic minds to navigate through?