storyteller

He is a doctor, a professor and a holocaust survivor. He looks at me as I walk into the room where he is about to lecture.

I reach to shake his hand. “Hello Dr. Fisk, I am from the newspaper.”

He lowers his glasses, looks over his nose at me and laughs. He does not take my hand. “You should not be here. Why do they send such a small girl to tell such a big story?”

I look much younger than 23, and I know it. “Because,” I tell him, “I am the best storyteller.”

He smiles and then takes my hand. “Well then small one - you will come here.” He points to a seat next to him and bends his knees so his eyes are even with mine. “The story weavers are the truth tellers - we sit together.” His finger points from me to him and back again. Then he whispers, “Because the storytellers are the only ones who ever really listen.”