Protected: A Sort of Homecoming

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Hellfire and Fuzzy Blankets

My pen does acrobatics in my hand. My feet tapping in neurotic fashion under the table like I’m a drummer in a punk band. The fluorescent light always oppressive in these classrooms; beats down with unyielding religious fervor and resolve. I’m kicking myself for not having had a 2nd cup of coffee. I can’t stop…