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Memories
As the sun shone through the grimy windows, I pressed my fingers against the graffiti covered wall as the ghosts of memory whispered in my ears. That day when Ms. Alice taught us our alphabet, taught us to read and write. One memory shone above all, like a cursed diamond in the mud: the day the devils invaded my haven. They came, in black suits and piercing stares, to glare down at us and inspect every corner of the school. Our room was last, and, with its bright green, peeling paint on the cracked walls, seemed to be the one they disapproved of the most. We all hid behind our mother, the teacher, seeking refuge from the tall, dark strangers that were in our happy, safe classroom. It was my last day there, and I never returned until today.
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