The Bowl That Leaned

Sarah signed up for the Wednesday pottery class at the Elmwood Community Center because it was cheap and it was not at home.

The other students made neat, round bowls, all the same. Sarah’s third bowl leaned to the left. She had pressed too hard with her thumb, and one wall had gone thin and tall, so the bowl leaned over and stayed there.

She was going to squash it and start again.

“Don’t,” the teacher said. He picked it up and turned it around slowly. “Look at that shape. You couldn’t make that on purpose.”

He put it on the shelf by the door, where the good pieces went.

For a week, people talked about Sarah’s bowl. A man from the Tuesday class asked her how she did it. A woman offered her thirty dollars for it, and Sarah said no.

The next Wednesday, the teacher walked around the room and guided their hands, like always. Sarah sat down at the wheel and pressed hard with her thumb, exactly the same way.

The bowl came out round. Perfectly round, thin and even, the best bowl in the room.

Nobody asked her about it. Nobody put it on the shelf by the door.

Sarah looked at it for a long time. She hated it.