I remember standing outside of class and him looking at me like I was the only girl in the room. I remember smiling and giggling nervously as I entered class feeling his eyes still on me. I remember ...

I know I came in here for something. What was it? Variations of that scenario have been the punchline for jokes about forgetful seniors forever. Here are a few others. “Have you seen my glasses?” ...

I remember the heat. A dry, suffocating torrent. The blazing, burning sun baking the tarmac. No clouds, no trees, just a furnace of hate. I feel the hate. I remember the heat. I remember the dust.