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Literature Text
You were sitting in a chair as the tornado alarms sounded. The class hurriedly rushed for shelter, leaving our essays behind. My essay sat vulnerable and exposed to wandering eyes as you shuffled by it and I cringed at all the words you might become exposed to and all the weak fragments of myself that I am not capable of articulating through spoken word.
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From December 2010.
One of those dreams that feels so real you can smell it the next day.
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From December 2010.
One of those dreams that feels so real you can smell it the next day.
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