A fallen tree hangs like a doorway, turning a simple path into a hidden world, where the key is your imagination.
A fallen tree hangs like a doorway, turning a simple path into a hidden world, where the key is your imagination.
Jordan rushed into the classroom three minutes late, holding a dripping umbrella. Everyone stared when he walked in, because his jacket and hair were soaked all the way through. “Sorry,” Jordan said, breathing hard.
Some days
I feel like I take up
too much space—
like every word I say
echoes louder
than it should.
And other days
I feel so quiet
I’m afraid the world
will blink
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