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I drank cold coffee and wrote with a sticky pen; clearly headed nowhere good to-day.

They rolled their **** in mango-flavored papers.  

I stood small and center
in the dark room, hands clutching
mesh straps of a fuschia-pink littlegirl backpack.  

I stood

slightly slumped

to watch dim orange light outside the dorm window set fire to my shoes.
playing with line breaks...

— The End —