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May 18th, 202018/5/2020 I feel the cool smooth paneling under my palms. All around me, almost identical cream walls, a cream lampshade. The ceiling is the same colour, spotted with grubby marks. A whole room, with traces of me. Things I’ve drawn, marks I’ve made. It’s a strange feeling, looking at a place I see every day, as if I’d seen it for the first time. We have no letter box here, instead it’s on the ground floor, 501 the number I’ve always known. I know it all like I know my face. For these weeks this corridor has been my world. A beam of light glints from under the door, dust particles catching the light. Have you ever stared at something for so long you locate that little circle in your vision? I always thought that was my pupil. All I know is if you stare long enough things flicker and move. What could be in that letterbox? Maybe, just this once, something a little otherworldly…
Contributor: Saffron Nayar, Year 8
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