I’m 18, and I graduated from high school last week. People keep asking me what’s next, but honestly, it doesn’t feel like anything’s started. If anything, it feels like something ended too soon, and the world forgot to hit “play” again. Everything still smells like the cafeteria—warm rolls, floor wax, and cleaning spray. Sometimes I think I hear her footsteps in the kitchen, even though I know better. My grandma, Lorraine, raised me. She was it. The whole deal. She became my mother, my father, and every support beam in my life since the car crash that took my parents...
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