I can still remember the smell, even after two decades. Industrial wood glue. Burnt hair. The faint metallic scent of old desks that had absorbed years of teenage restlessness. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead with a constant, irritating buzz, casting everything in that pale, unforgiving glow unique to public schools built in the 1970s. It was sophomore chemistry. I was sixteen — quiet, studious, and deeply committed to staying invisible. I had…
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