lady at my high school.
For years, she had quietly cleaned the classrooms, swept the hallways, emptied trash cans, and wiped down desks after students went home. Most teenagers barely noticed her existence.
But I did.
She always smiled whenever we crossed paths. Sometimes she would greet me by name, even when I couldn’t remember ever introducing myself.
Occasionally, I caught her watching me from the end of a hallway. There was something unusual about the way she looked at me, something warm and almost painfully familiar.
I had always
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