Clichés are useful; life's not
blow-by-blow unique; inventive phrases, for the most
part, are inappropriate.
Case in point?
Well, this is novel, I concede. Although I do recall a
precedent. I was six years old the last time I got
locked inside a room. It was a cloakroom. Class of '82.
little smoochin' midst the snow pants was my gullible
sweet Amelia my accomplice and 1st-grade Valentine.
Claimed she needed kissing practice; would I, pretty-please,
oblige? You bet; it was fun until I realized I'd been
fooled; it was a trap. She and her co-cohorts
snapped the light off, shut me in all by myself, and left me
stranded midst the soggy coats and leggings. Recess
ended. I was designated AWOL after class was back in
session. "Okay, who locked Franchone
in the coatroom?" No one squealed. And I was not a
snitch, so wouldn't tell.