On an unusually warm April evening, she sat in the front parking lot longer than she should have. Braving herself to cross the threshold of the place she had long hoped to forget. For the girl she remembered walking those hallways and sitting in those classrooms is a far cry from the woman staring back at her from the rear view mirror.
Distance and time have a way of blurring the lines. And she dared not stare too long at the past for fear of turning to sand.
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