"Eat" and "Boat" were the only two words he knew, yet he said these two simple words with enthusiasm and passion. When he smiled, his hazel eyes glimmered with curious innocence and his lips curled in naive playfulness: childish, but sincere. He laughed at the ordinary things in life--a butterfly fluttering on a leaf, a ball rolling across the asphalt--but hos laugh always rang joyously, untainted by worry. Nervous, but eager, I arrived for the Landmark program in Gilmington Iron Works, New Hampshire, only to find Kory's outstretched arms ready for a bear hug. I looked at him, uneasy an hesitant. There he stood before me, all five-foot-nine of him, with a sily grin revealing two rows of crooked teeth. Immediately, I was astonished, repulsed, and a little frightened. He looked disheveled and dirty, yet he oozed innocent confidence. I had never interacted with the mentally challenged before, and I had no idea what to expect. I reluctantly took a step forward, into his extended arms into a new world. Hope you liked it. Feedback and criticism would be lovely. Don't be too hatred though. Thanks, Jess