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Abstract
tion></figure><p id="6885">Today I looked my childhood bully in the eye. Her profile picture stared unblinkingly back at me. She’s smiling, though not with her eyes: hazy blue pools glinting in the sunlight — somewhere. <i>What is she like these days?</i> I reme
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mber how we used to fight on the playground. We both wanted to claim people as “ours,” as “<i>my</i> best friend,” as “<i>mine</i>.” She was divine in the swift way she could cut me down. She always wore a frown when no one else was around.</p></article></body>
Today I looked my childhood bully in the eye. Her profile picture stared unblinkingly back at me. She’s smiling, though not with her eyes: hazy blue pools glinting in the sunlight — somewhere. What is she like these days? I remember how we used to fight on the playground. We both wanted to claim people as “ours,” as “my best friend,” as “mine.” She was divine in the swift way she could cut me down. She always wore a frown when no one else was around.
