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Weekly Contest #333
I wake up knowing I am eighteen years old.I know this the way you know your own name, the way memory settles into bone and refuses to leave, even when the body it belongs to is suddenly wrong. My mind is heavy with years, with guilt and hunger and shame that has learned how to sit quietly, but when I open my eyes, I am staring at a ceiling I have not seen in a decade, and my legs—when I swing them over the edge of the bed—do not reach the floor.I am not confused about who I am.I am confused about where I am.There is a girl sleeping beside me...
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