Susan's POV
Ms Brown did show me some of her poems. They were beautifully written. Mine seemed crude and unimaginative in comparison, but Ms Brown gave me a lot of encouragement. I wrote some new and rewrote some old poems, and showed them to her. Of course, everyone knew about Ms Brown teaching me how to write poems, and no one seemed to mind. One day Ms Brown and I were having another of our poets' lunch, and we went to a restaurant about twenty minutes away.
We chatted along our way. She often complimented my work and it made me blush.
The sun was shining brightly. Actually that was am understatement. The sun was baking the Earth, and it was boiling. Beads of sweat trickled down my face, and Miss Sun brushed them away with her cool fingertips. She began sweating as well, and I remembered that I had an umbrella with me, so I fished it out and opened it.
"Thank you," she whispered, "I was feeling as if I were boiled alive." I agreed.
Suddenly, as we were walking, I heard a small gasp. I whirled, and saw Miss Sus fell onto the ground.