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Anxiety From the Phones

The class phone rings.
We all stare at the blinking red light,
Shifting nervously in our seats
Waiting for the teacher to answer it,
Wondering if the call was for one of us.


No one could have done anything wrong,
But there is always that fear.
Who would be called out?
What secret has been exposed?
We’ll find out.


The teacher spins around and searches the class
And finally his eyes lands on you.
Dread sets in as he tells you to bring everything to the office.
Slowly you shuffle past serious faces
And into the quiet hall.


A thick tension filled silence surrounds the office when you arrive
And a hand on your shoulder ushers you into a small isolated room
Where two men in blue uniforms rise to greet you,
Complete with matching grim expressions.
“We’re sorry..” They tell you.


Both gone in an instant
Orphaned in a matter of seconds.
Your entire world knocked off its axis
And still spinning
You are now


Alone.




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