The floor’s were speckled colors of white, brown and a sliver of dust.

The walls were a burnt honey color, the bricks worn smooth. I remember walking by, my fingers running through the grooves of the wall, my fingertips catching in the chips on the wall.

The ceilings were high and mighty to my small body, the hallways smelling like leather sneakers, the sharp tang of glue and cleaner.

The stairways were metal, the clang, clang, clang of many feet pounding, running, eager for their lunch.

I remember the playground, the dark tar as hot as the sun beating down on your neck on the hot sunny summer days. The red top like a hulking red bug about to be your worst nightmare, and the wooden set old and rickety giving the tiny hands splinters.

I remember the classrooms. Each one different, each one unique.

I remember the teachers.

I remember.