I’m afraid of fire alarms. Like, really afraid, can keep me up at night if I let it, afraid.
I know it’s a silly fear, especially since I know how it started.
I was in the third grade and was sent to the office to drop off something for my third-grade teacher, Ms. Ely.
When I finished my task, Mr. Peterson told me something and I couldn’t understand him. Instead of asking him to repeat himself, I just nodded my understanding and made my way back to the classroom.
This happened a lot and I still nod my head when I don’t understand someone, even after asking several times. Eventually, I just give up and nod my head in agreement.
Almost back to my classroom, I had just passed the girl’s bathroom and was practically skipping down the hall. When I was just under the fire alarm when it went off.
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