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one-hundred-forty-nine-word story

You never forget the first time you get punched in the face. Maybe it’s different for those kids who got into fights all the time. For the rest of us, the first imprint of a fist on your skull never goes away.

Everyone on the playground sizes each other up. I knew I could take Corey Bremen, though I’d never laid a finger on him. I guess Ernie Moraes had sized me up and felt the need to prove it.

It happened quite unexpectedly. I had just finished marbles when he came at me from behind. Cheap shot. I guess it hurt too, but I was mostly shocked. I just told myself not to cry, because that would’ve been embarrassing.

“You’re dead meat!”, I yelled.

We grabbed and shoved and pulled, until we were both out of breath.

Never did manage to land a punch though.

That was embarrassing.

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