Stories

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I can write wonderful stories but they have a twist my pencil is a razor my eraser is a tissue and the paper is my wrist I thought I was alone and no one cared until he approached me by the stairs he tried to push up my sleeve but I walked away he grabbed my wrist and I flinched in pain he pulled up my sleeve I looked at my shoes in embarrassment then he pulled up his sleeve and said "I can write too "

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