The burden of a rejected apology is a heavy thing

A couple arguing. (Courtesy/iStock)

When I was a skinny lad with knees that stuck out like doorknobs, I went to school with a girl named Deborah. But in our small village, "Deborah" was too much of a mouthful, so we all called her Dofora.

She was a sweet girl, as innocent as they come. Yet, every time a naughty kid in class let out a fart, the blame always landed squarely on Dofora. If the class prefect needed to whip up a noisemakers list, Dofora's name was inked at the top without fail. When someone giggled during a boring afternoon lesson, who else could it be? Dofora, of course.