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Rocketman
It was nearly four by the time she left the classroom. There was no one in the wide halls; only the janitor’s carts occupied space. As she ambled she tried to process everything she just relearned in in chemistry class but running on four hours of sleep had taken its toll. She was suddenly snapped out of her daze by the old PA system. Usually it just yelled directions to mispronounced names but this time it was playing Rocket Man by Elton John. A smile grew accosted her face; this was her favorite song.
Singling softly under her breath at her locker the girl loaded that night’s homework into her bag and set off again.
“Rocket Maaaaan… Burning out his fuse up here alone…” she mumbled with the song.
The song brought her back to when her best friend actually made eye contact with her and ther long talks about their favorite types of music. It took her back to when things were just black and white- not all these ridiculous shades. It reminded her of singing with her friend by the pool. The days seemed to last forever then.
But now she felt like Rocket Man. She could feel her fuse burning low. And it was no one’s doing but her own. Challenging classes demanded attention out of school. Attention she either didn’t possess or give. But as a result she was walking around school at four in the afternoon. I need to change, she thought. I can’t keep doing this. How long will it take to change?
“I think it’s gonna be a long, long time,” Elton sang.
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