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Height

My family has varied heights. My sister is the shortest, then my mom, then my dad, and finally my brother. Then there is me. I am a like a skyscraper in a small town. My shadow is the size of a truck. My shoes and socks grow year by year. My pants leave me month by month. I hit my head on hotel showers. I almost as if I was a tower. The wind throws me left and right. Up where I can reach a kite. My height is a topic of conversation. Air feels lighter up here. People expect me to be amazing at basketball. And I can ride every ride at six flags. I can reach everything on every shelf, as if my arms were made from poles.




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