On a long, boring day, I was riding with my dad and stepmom, Evie, from East Elementary School, to Columbus, a one hour and fifteen minute ride. It was a Thursday, the day before Mardi Gras and I had to leave early, so that meant I would miss the party. I was going to the Columbus Children’s Hospital to see my cousin, Amanda, who was thirteen years old, two years older than I was.
When we go to Columbus, we found the hospital and parked in the parking lot, I walked in, along with my dad and Evie, walked to the elevator and pushed the “up” button. The doors opened and we stepped inside. I pushed button number three and watched the doors close. The numbers climbed from one, to two, to three, and bing, the doors opened. As soon as we stepped out, I smelled horrible chemicals and disgusting hospital food, and I started feeling nauseaous.
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