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On good old 2%

February 29, 2008

My parents split up when I was in second grade. I spent one week at school in San Jose before transferring to the elementary school by my grandmother’s house, where we lived while my mother finished school. My first day, someone was supposed to show me where all the important areas were: the office, my classroom, where to spend my quarter and get my milk for lunch. I must have fallen through the cracks; no one showed me these things. When my mother picked me up from school that day, we both sat in her car and cried, because no one had showed me where to get my milk.

Now I’m at a new job, and the people here seem to stick to themselves. It’s quite a change from my last job, where everyone was about the same age, and hung out during lunch and after hours. I’m optimistic about making friends here, dont’ get me wrong.  I know it’s my first week, and I don’t really know anyone, but there’s not really any one around to tell me where to get my milk. Luckily, now, I’m an adult, and I can find my milk on my own.

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