I walk up to my locker and pull another feather off it and throw it in my locker angrily. That’s the third time this week. I lean my head against the locker when I feel a tap on my shoulder. It’s you. I haven’t told you about the feathers or the fact I’m actually considering going. You’d kill me before the war got a chance to oh hey I mutter oblivious to the feather still sticking out of my locker
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