millygirl01
I placed out of my 5th grade science class. In 5th grade, that was cool. By 6th grade I was in the 7th grade science class, and it wasn't cool to be smart anymore. I was trying to find my place, and being ahead wasn't helping.
She didn’t know how to describe what she was feeling. It hurt, kind of, but not the sharp pain that goes with a specific struggle. This was worse, it was an unidentified detachment. She decided that the best thing might be to get some air, so she decided to walk to Walgreens, and buy a bag of raspberry dark chocolates. She walked as she ate them, one by one, looking up at the stars shining against the industrial backdrop of her tiny town.
She didn't know how to describe what she was feeling. It hurt, kind of, but not the sharp pain that goes with a specific struggle. This was worse, it was an unidentified detachment. She decided that the best thing might be to get some air, so she decided to walk to Walgreens, and buy a bag of raspberry dark chocolates. She walked as she ate them, one by one, looking up at the stars shining against the industrial backdrop of Raign.
Aging instead of growing.
Hisssssss. Hisss. A rattlesnake appeared, shaking its tail, menacingly beckoning like an attractive girl at the bar you know is only going to bring you pain.
He heard they were building a bullet train from Champaign back to the suburbs. He wondered how it would have changed things if they had built it four years ago, back when he was taking that trip on every weekend he needed some extra support or money.
The train pulled away just seconds before she ran up to the platform. Terrible luck. It wasn't that she couldn't wait the ten minutes. It was the feeling of a near-miss. Like that stranger who catches her eye at the drugstore, and then turns away to pay for his cough drops.
I wandered around the parking lot, thinking I'd figure out the general layout of the building. I'm not always the best at figuring out where I'm going, but my thought was that if I took the extra time to "study up" ahead of time I'd do alright.
She looked at the rubies, the diamonds, the gold (the gold!). Next in line, she knew. But in the back of her head she pictured something different. A beach somewhere. A small tent, pitched against the massive expanse of the breaking blue, and a rough hand wrapped gently around the small of her back.
Ding. Ding. Ding. She was so sick of that ( ) bell. She ran out to the counter with a stiff smile plastered on her face.
Hi. How can I help you?
All she got in return was a challenging glare.
This was not going to be a good day.
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