The little girl arrived, before her large doors gaping then swallowed into school. Motions and first day frenzy, to lay the frame for later repetition and schoolday habit. Coming to close, quickly drained of the youth and their vigor, a girl left standing. When questioned, with short nods and shakes for answers, the teachers uncover absence of home, parents, any and everything. Though each one after the other more crafty than the previous, they unearth a genuine lack of information from the child. And this is through no fault of her own. She knows nothing but the start of that day, facing from there forwards, unable to turn around. For fear from turning her to ruin, they allow her to stay. The hurried conversion of a supply room to accommodations. Through subsequent days to months, this room grows cozy and cares for her well. Space is precious and the room does not entirely surrender the original purpose, sharing time alone with brooms, stacks of paper, and glue locked boxes of line marching still staples. And so this girl braves forward as time, a strong and steady weathering wind, streams past. She grows, moves, changes, and yet remains the same.

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