I think I must have been nine years old the first time you spoke to me. I was standing in front of the classroom in what felt like a police line-up, feeling a bit nervous and apprehensive as you looked at each one of us sternly and quite disapprovingly. I don’t know what kind of trouble I had gotten myself into again (although I remember that it had something to do with my being talkative as usual in class), but somehow my teacher felt compelled to ask for your help to rein us girls in. When you got to me, you asked me what my name was. And when I told you, I could sense that something immediately clicked inside your brain.

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