The grasshopper hated winter. She could feel it approaching, with its gusts of cold air that left her continuously shivering, and knew there was nothing she could do about it.The few insects she'd ... [+]
When Wally asks me to punch him in the stomach, I try not to hold back. I let it rip. I set my feet like he taught me to, draw back my fist, and deliver a blow to the spot he's pointing at—right above his belly button. "Harder!" he yells. "You can punch harder than that!" I remember what he taught me about footwork. I do a little hop and replant my feet at a 45 degree angle. I shift my weight as I throw a punch from my cheek to his stomach. "Do it again!" he says. "Harder!" Again I hop up. Again I shift, except this time I think about my fist going through his stomach; traveling beyond his abd