Where Nobody Can See

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By Laura Moverin

She stands over me, hands on hips, shouting. Or maybe she’s not shouting but it comes across with the intensity of a shout. It echoes other shouts I’ve heard before; my mother yelling at me when I was a child, my teacher angry at me for some misdemeanour. The passion of it is startling because it’s not about a personal grievance, it’s because I made too many posts on the school’s social media site at work this week. Apparently, I should have been more focused on other things in the library.

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