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In the hypnotist's chair

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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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