The pressure to succeed -their version- was like having a curling iron on the back of her bare neck, underneath a truck tire, in a room full of poison gas.
Medications tamed the gastrointestinal lions, but didn’t entirely keep them from biting on occasion.
The academic honors had marched in like a colony of ants and the ability to genuinely smile blew away like the discarded wrapper of a stale snack.
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