I was lying on the floor of our living room, my body paralyzed. I had thought of the name “Dominique,” the name of a kid in my class who was failing biology. My hands were contaminated and had touched my leg because I had an itch. Damn itch. I had stayed hunched over trying not to think of “Dominique,” or “Mo,” or “Waleed.” It's hard when you’re trying not to think of something, however.
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