His public sneer burned your skin, but the poem slipped into your locker—written in trembling calligraphy—spoke of hands that ached to hold instead of push away.
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The Notes in My Locker
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Read The Notes in My Locker | AI Story on Emochi
His public sneer burned your skin, but the poem slipped into your locker—written in trembling calligraphy—spoke of hands that ached to hold instead of push away.