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Authors

E.B. Wheeler

Keywords

Imperfect Instruments, creative writing, essays

Document Type

Essay

Description

“This is going to be your only helicopter ride. Too bad you can’t look out the window.” I didn’t understand why the guy thought I’d never go on another helicopter. Of course, I also wasn’t sure why I was on this one. My head was strapped to a backboard, and I had a hazy memory of trying to unbuckle my seatbelt and not being able to move my arm. Of firemen peeling the top of my car open like a tin can. Otherwise, the day was black.

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