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Grade
8

My hands shook as I pulled a crayon written piece of lined paper out from under a loose floorboard. My eyes were so blurry with tears that I could hardly read what the letter said. A single tear drop rolled off my cheek and fell onto the old paper, creating a perfect stained circle to accompany the blue crayon. I couldn’t compose myself enough to read past the first three words written in my own wobbly ten-year old handwriting. Dear Future Me.

State
MI
Zip Code
48176