In the hypnotist's chair
I shifted in the cheap wooden auditorium seat.
It was 2006 and I was a senior in high school.
A hypnotist was brought in as an end-of-the-night show for prom.
I squinted my eyes and tapped my foot as the man on stage spoke in a soft, easy voice.
“Come on, work,” I remember thinking to myself. My eyelids grew tense and I let out a deep sigh.
The hypnotist asked all those under his trance to rise. I was left in my chair.
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