Her chair fell over backward into the row behind her, screeching against the floor and then clattering. There was no sound beyond her embarrassed squeak, and all she could feel was hot. At least she wasn't bleeding. She didn't look around, certain that too many people were watching her fumble through the room. Of course, everyone could tell that she wasn't supposed to be there. The air tasted pink and sweet, and she was falling--so far and fast that she sat up. What a strange dream.
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