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Personal Narrative: Why Do You Re Doing

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“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?” I heard his voice booming with rage before I registered that he had walked into the kitchen. My head shot to the left, and as I looked him in the eyes I felt anticipation and a slight pang of fear for what was to come. The voice was my dad’s; I had broken another one of his numerous, irrational rules. He had caught me munching on a bag of chips past 8. 8! His anger was almost palpable, as if it had the ability to seep out of every pore in his body. Sensibility did not have a place in his mind and I knew that any excuse I could muster would not be heard. Although I knew what happened next, it never prepared me. The next week I found myself being coaxed awake by the delicious smell of pancakes and bacon;

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