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Shortlisted for Weekly Contest #170 ⭐️
I’m sitting in English class, ripping my nails apart, dizzy with grief. I had gotten a red gel manicure over fall break with my grandmother. I felt pretty, put together, more like a woman than what I am—a college girl with nothing figured out. Now I’m cursing my choices, as my thumb is a jagged mountain from digging under the shiny red. I need it off desperately, need my hands to be mine again. The red is making my eyes burn, my throat tighten, and my chest collapse. I’m sitting in my English class. It’s a Monday, and it’s 10:30 and I hav...
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