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now, you'll create sorrow. This typeof rain only exists in itsown country. Your invitationmust dissolve in your own hand. Likean hourglass, made from a certainkind of light, it will guide you home,if you let it. Leaving at yourdoorstep, remember, this poemis about a poem…
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(Later the police escort the students out, directing them to keep their hands in the air, as they file out into the parking lot. They wrap Mrs. Smedley in a blanket as she stares out blankly in shock. "How is Linda? Is Linda alright?" she asks the EMT.)
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