My favorite teacher, Mr. Andres, had sent me a text this morning. It read: "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" A joke between us since I had taken his English literature class during junior year. He was still on my mind while I sat in the back of a car. He had this image of me, one I had perfected. I was the studious, intelligent girl with ideologies and passions. His protégé,
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