“Picking me first”

I was always the one who was the last to be picked but that never really bothered me.

I didn’t like sports anyways.

So when one day some kid felt sorry for me and picked me first I was the one who sighed the louder.

Everyone else did too of course but none quite as loud as me.

I was proud of that.

Our teacher not so much.

He yelled at me like you’ve never heard and when he was done he told me to leave.

All that just because I sighed when I was picked first.

I have to say that teacher was a bit of a prick.


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Categories: flash fiction, poem, poetryTags: , , , , ,

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