Isn't She Lovely

I have never forgotten the day in third grade when a group of fifth graders started making fun of me. I don't remember why specifically, but it was unrelenting. So, during afternoon recess I walked off the playground and ran as fast as I could to get home. When I got home my mother hugged me while I sobbed about the harassment. Through my tears she pieced together the story of my embarrassment and torture.

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