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PrologueThe Year My Sneakers Grew WingsThey were just sneakers.Old, beat-up, fraying at the laces. The kind that squeaked in thehallway and collected pebbles in the soles. They smelled faintly ofrain and grass and something like dusty cinnamon.They weren't fast. They weren't cool. They weren't new.But they were mine.And one morning-on the kind of day that starts like any other-Iwoke up and they had wings.
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