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minutes
minute one:
heart beats fast
minute two:
sniffles, nose begins to run
minute three:
she reaches for my hand
minute four:
i take hers
minute five:
the cold bites my fingertips
minute six:
our eyes lock, i see worry
minute seven:
crowd grows restless
minute eight:
feet shuffle
minute nine:
throat goes dry
minute ten:
we shouldn't have to live like this
minute eleven:
i wonder if it hurt
minute twelve:
i wonder if the families are okay
minute thirteen:
she lets go
minute fourteen:
his head drops
minute fifteen:
fingers go numb
minute sixteen:
tears prick my eyes
minute seventeen:
"It's 10:17, thank you for coming. You can go back to class."
minute eighteen:
a tidal wave of ink like tears wash over me, they can be washed away but they still stain.
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This piece is about the walkout on March 14th at 10 for 17 minutes in honor of the victims of the recent Parkland shooting. This is a minute by minute play by play of my personal experience. This can be interpreted in many ways, I did this on purpose, I don't elaborate because we did not get an explanation of why the world is so scary now, why the shooters are doing this, why they want to cause pain. So I will not provide an answer. Except for the last line, I elaborate that I am hurt. And that my tears and this moment will stay with me forever. Another element that makes me love this piece is that as you can see I do not capatlize my i's in the piece. In kindergarten my teacher Mrs.Otonicar told us to capitalize our eyes when referring to ourselves to show we are important. Whenever I was feeling sad or unipreciated I wouldn't capitalize them. To show secretly that I'm not okay. It was my own little secret. It shows that I felt insignificant in that moment. A speck in a world of dots. Just one girl, who was sad.