Little Kao

I didn’t see Teacher Kao the next day, or the day after, or the day after that. I thought to myself I must have said or done something wrong. I cursed myself, I should have been like him and said nothing. Me and my big mouth. I was always told not to speak so much and here I did just that, spoke too much and I made Kao mad at me.
At that instant I heard the familiar cough and felt the tap on my shoulder, Kao had returned. I smiled and we ate the apple he brought.
Kao looked nervous. The first time he seemed uncomfortable. I sat there in silence and waited.
He asked me how my translating was progressing. I said better now that he was helping me. I was handed a worn blue piece of paper. I took it and opened it. I saw it was a letter. I looked at him and he said, ‘This young man has a way with words. I thought you’d find it more interesting to translate then these old writers.”
He got up and left rather hurriedly. I put down mycup and started to read the letter.
The next day when I met with Kao I told him I had showed the translation of the letter to my teacher and he wanted me to work on transalting more of these dead letters. Kao shifted nervously in his seat. I thought quickly. I said, “Kao, may I have your permission to translate these letters? I promise I won’t use the names, places, dates or anything that could identify the writer or the receiver in any of my translations.” Kao looked relieved and said, “Yes, that would be most agreeable.”
This is how I became Little Kao.