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Deadly Serenity

by Ella Lukowiak      Sweat drips down my back, staining my one clean shirt. My feet slap against cold pavement as I feel the air grow thick with moisture. Dark clouds dominate the horizon with an echo of orange smeared in the background as the only remains of tonight's twilight. My knees grow weak as my lungs sear my chest in agony. I see the porchlight come into view as the first drop lands on my sleeve. Several more fall as the sky opens its congestion upon us. I feel my hair beginning to frizz, and race to the comfort of the canopy above the door leading into the place I call home.      I take my sneakers off outside, careful to squeeze out all of the water. Our home is small: two bedrooms, one bathroom, and a living room which consists of a sofa, a television, and a makeshift kitchen in the corner. My mother is a "chef on the rise", or so she calls herself.      I enter the house to the smell of meatballs and tomato sauce mixed with sweat. My little sister Krissy

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