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  • Sara Solano

The Apple

It's only 10 a.m. The piercing sound of the bell rattles me awake, reminding me that I won't being going home for another four hours. My physics teacher begins to sink his fangs into a perfectly shaped apple and devours it while blabbering about longitudinal waves. My stomach growls, producing sound waves that can be heard throughout the room; I forget it's angry at me for not eating enough and keeping track of my weight — because 120 pounds isn't low enough. My teacher slaps a paper on my desk and tells me to pay attention, but how can I when the only thing I crave makes me sick.

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