i had been left in charge while the other daycare workers had gone to their lounge. the class was sitting at their lunch tables. i was at a table with around 10 kids. somehow, the children's conversation had turned to birthdays.

"my birthday is july 25th." said eliza, a freckly six year old girl.
"whoa, really? so is mine.", i butted in. "high five!"
a smile emerged as if her face had been a swimming pool and her smiling lips were a diver coming up for air.

"mine's october 5th!" shot out another kid, looking up at me with the desire, visible in his eyes, to receive the same sort of congratulatory manual kineticism of his peer and i. i felt bad not rewarding this kid with a high five, even though his birthday did not match mine or hold any significance for me.
"alright, high five!" i said, slightly less enthusiastically.

"mine's january 10th.", "mine's june 4th.", "mine's december 20th.", "mine's..."...

my hands had been tiring giving out high fives. for the children, it wasn't the feeling of their hands and mine physically connecting with a clap. it wasn't even important anymore about birthdays. what every kid needed was this reassurance that they were as special as any other kid at the table. children from adjacent tables flocked over to ours. this was turning into a competition. no one was happy unless they received more high fives than all the others. high fives were the currency of this new country developing at the lunch table.

i was ready to succeed.

the kids were keeping count of how many high fives they had. i told them that they could give each other high fives. it started slowly, but eventually an uproar of hands connecting with hands was all that could be heard inside the classroom. every child becoming richer and richer. soon, the monetary records had been lost. everyone was equal and a part of something special.

the other daycare workers returned to a classroom filled with a sound not unlike the setting off of fire crackers in a church hall, or a mixing bowl brimmed with rice crispies, being monitored with the most sensitive of condenser microphones, and being projected from a 1600 watt amplifier with a spring reverb turned up to 8 or 9.

it was beautiful.

the other day care workers gave me each a high five and then each other one. which added to the noise. high fives went on everyday until they replaced all forms of communication. a language of slapping hands together was slowly formed. verbal dialog thinned until the only vocal sounds heard were the sounds of someone coughing or yawning.

after working for the rest of the school year in this non-verbal environment, i found it hard to communicate with people. my mouth had become only a breathing and eating apparatus. i wasn't sure i could even speak if i wanted to. i think i was afraid that i couldn't, so i didn't even try. plus, if i did, it meant giving in in some way.

this irritated everyone who didn't speak my new language. my girlfriend left me. my friends stopped calling me. it was necessary in this society to have communication that not only i could use and understand, i reasoned. it was obvious what had to be done. i was to make a glorious comeback. i posted flyers up around my neighborhood and around any place that my loved ones would see.

"this saturday come witness his first words... since his last!", "he speaks again. don't miss his first speech!", "vocal chords back in style!". depicted on many of the flyers, was a picture of a man in a cape and top hat raising his hands to a silhouetted audience in the foreground, standing on a stage with one of the classic 1950's microphones used for radio.

in reality, there was no stage or microphone for me. a top hat and cape were lacking as well, but my audience was there. i stood on a milk crate viewing friends and loved ones, and a few people i didn't even recognize, all standing awaiting my promised vocalizations. i waiting until it was dead silent, not that there's a recognizable distinction between dead silence and live silence. it's all silence, nonetheless.

"greetings...".

the crowd erupted with cheers.

"it's been a long time since i have used this form of speech."

the audience went wild. it was as if i were a rock star or a president (which people actually liked). every sentence i spoke brought out a cheer from the large mass of loving people in front of me. i soon realized that it didn't matter what i said. i tested this theory by inserting the sentence "tomatoes and grasshoppers have rights just as you and i." in between two unrelated sentences. the crowd ate it up (only the tomato for they were not insectivorous).

the way in which i spoke was different now than it had been before the high five incident had taken place. i felt a mustache growing and a monocle in front of my right eye. my accent had gone up a good many classes. it was almost to the point of being british. i was gleefully bathing in all this new attention, but one mustn't milk the cow until it's dehydrated beyond repair.

"i'd like to thank everyone who attended on this fine sunny afternoon."

the audience cheered and starting clapping.

"no!", i said. "from this day forward, there will be no hands against other hands in such a ferocious manner. today we bid farewell to those sorts of actions. we now live in a world where our mouths will do all the applauding." i smiled and looked down upon my ex-girlfriend beaming up at me with wet eyes. "now if you'll excuse me, i have a girl to kiss."

the crowd cheered and the orchestra come to a most triumphant crescendo as i walked down the steps of the stage, bent her over and kissed her. i was now fully decked out in sophisticated 1800's clothing.

i carried her to the horse-driven carriage and off we drove into the "sunset st." sign which knocked over the carriage and the horses and flung us out into a gutter-side puddle. the crowd laughed. so did i, and a circle closed around my laughing face.

the end

this story, while containing some truths, such as the author working in an after school day care, and having a birthday in july, is in fact a work of fiction. contradictory to how the story ends, high fives are still used to this day, and as for thomas greenberg... well let's just say he'll be doing a lot of stamp collecting, if you know what i mean.