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shadow+dust

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Reading is my way to escape reality.
Writing is my way of expressing the things I could never say out loud.

Message to Readers

This is a piece I wrote for school a little while back and would really appreciate any feedback anyone has.
Thank you

Crybaby

March 16, 2019

FREE WRITING

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The wind howled as it passed through the small gap between the glass doors, bringing more dust onto the marble floor of Nadia’s house's lobby. Outside the day was hot, although the sky was covered in a thin blanket of gray clouds. I leaned back into the old couch, that now served as part of our fort. Nadia, my 10 year old neighbor, sat next to me. She is three years older than me. But she was one of the only older kids I knew that hadn't, yet, made fun of me for being younger. I looked up to her, and I wanted to be just like her.
I thought of the early winter mornings, where we would play outside for hours. Or the hot summer days where we would spend days making the perfect fort in my room.
“You know sometimes I agree with Owen,” Nadia remarked, pulling me out of my day dream, and back to earth. “You are sometimes a cry baby.” It tooked me a second to register what she had said. Once I realized that she had called me a name, my eye’s started to sting and I knew I was about to cry.
Come on, I thought to myself. You can’t cry now, that will just prove her right.
But I couldn’t help it. I felt a cool, salty tear trickle down my hot cheek and fall into my mouth. I turned my face away, try to hide from Nadia’s sight. I felt her gazing eyes pierce the back of my neck. I couldn’t take it anymore, finally jumped off the rough couch and ran as fast as I could, almost slipping on the hard marble floor. As I pushed open the doors, I felt the last of the cold leave my body. Replaced by the burning hot heat of the Qatar sun.
I didn’t know where I was running, or really, I didn’t care. All I knew was I had to get away. I just let my feet carry me as far away as I could. I ran to a small patch of grass behind mine and Nadia’s house. We called it our secret hideout, no one would find me here. I sat down and tried to make myself as small as I could. I sat there, and I cried. Not the wailing kind of crying, the kind that feels like it will never stop. The kind of crying where you lose track of time, and all you know is the taste of your own tears.
The warm breeze blew on my hot face. And the sound of birds sounded far away, as if in a distant land. I stayed there for what could have been hours or minutes. But by the time my parents found me I knew two things. One, I was out of tears, I couldn’t cry any more. And two, Nadia was no longer the girl I looked up to, she was no longer the friend I always thought I had.
 

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