45 and 46: One more word, one less word
All good journalists learn the inverted pyramid.
One more word
Summer. I’d graduated. College was coming. I sold kitchen knives. They came from a catalog. I couldn’t convince people to buy. But I convinced myself of their quality. I sold Mom a jackknife for Dad’s birthday. It came by mail and sat in the car. My mom drove me to the airport for a trip. I opened up the knife to demonstrate the safety locking mechanism. But in the attempt, I pushed the blade into my own palm. The next summer, instead of knives, I sold donuts from behind a counter.
One less word
The summer between high school and college, I sold knives from a catalog. Well, I tried to, but I couldn't convince people to buy any. I convinced myself these were the best knives at any price. I got my mom to buy my dad a jackknife. It came in the mail, sat in the car. Mom drove me to a church missions trip. I was sitting in the passenger seat. I opened the package and knife. Tried demonstrating its safety mechanism. Sliced my hand open. The next summer? Sold donuts. Counter.