Applied

1. What would be the result if she didnt reply to

the protagonist?
2. If you have a problem, how would you solve
using what youve learned in your relationship
to other people?

Literal
1. Whats the story all about?
I met her
2. What would be the gender is the writer talking
about? On the Stairs
Interpretative
1. What can you conclude in the story?
2. What would be the ultimate reason why the
writer wrote this?

[COMPANY NAME]
HRS
I cant. I have homework.
Her grip slackened. The forefinger of her other hand
traced the curve of my jaw coming to rest on the still
damp aertex at the base of my throat.
Come over later.
She knew. Today would be no different.
Yes.
4 1
I met her on the stairs. I should have waited longer. At
first I thought that maybe she hadnt seen me. She was
at the turn of the second floor landing, her hand on the
heavy swing door that separated the stairs from the
lobby. The lift doors could just be seen through the
gap that she had made. Beyond, was her flat? I didnt
want to think of that.
She appeared distracted, her eyes fixed on something I
could not see, her head to one side. She looked like she
might have been in the process of either coming in or
going out. She was waiting for me, of course, but I
wasnt to know that.
The suddenness with which I stopped, along with the
rush of adrenalin that caused my stomach to clench,
threatened to unbalance me.
She let the door swing back with a bang. I jumped. To
retrace my steps was pointless she already knew that
I was there and anyhow, where could I go? It was
already past six and mum would do her nut if I was
late for dinner again.
 I only had one more flight to climb. Shifting my bag
higher onto my shoulder, I started forward again past
the turn of the stairs where she was standing. The
barrier of his arm was sudden hard against my belly.

Spindles of light from the

landing window cast
zebra stripes across her
face. I couldnt read her
expression.
Are you sure you didnt
tell?
I told you, no! I was
angry with the tears that
were pricking my eyes.

Strands of part- dried hair snagged inside my sports Distant street sounds teased through the half open fan
shirt. I let them be. light above our heads. The squeak of a wheelie bin and
the bump it made as it mounted the curb.
Did you say anything? The baldness of the question
took me by surprise. I pushed forward and felt his arm brace. He grabbed
my wrist - the pulse beating out a ragged rhythm
No. where his thumb pressed hard into the soft flesh.
Where have you been?
Swimming club. Come over later, he muttered, hot breath close to my
Thought so, eyes flicking to my hair. ear.

2 3