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I was in a school that looked a bit like my
middle school, only larger and very sterile. I was
looking for a bathroom because I had to throw up--I
was not nauseated, but I had a mouthful of a hard,
curdled substance. I found a bathroom, ran into a
stall, and tried to spit out the terrible gunk, but
every time I spit a mouthful into the toilet, my mouth
would be full again. I looked behind me and noticed a
young girl, about 12 or so, staring at me through the
open stall door with huge, unblinking eyes, like a
Keane painting. My mouth suddenly clear, I grew
irate, yelling, “Get out of here, can’t you see I’m
extremely sick?!?” A high-pitched voice from the
stall next to mine mocked, “Yes, she’s very sick!” I
chased the little voyeur-girl into a hallway which now
looked exactly like the long hallway from my
elementary school. I caught the girl next to the room
that would have been my fourth grade classroom, and,
grabbing her shoulder roughly with one hand, said over
and over, pointing my finger a emphasizing each word:
“You. Are. In. Elementary. School. You. Are.
In. Elementary. School,” while the art teacher
cheered me on.
- Keara Shipe
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