4. sort out temper:

when I was 12,
I threw a crushed can with
a point in the corner
straight at an eight year old
boy’s face having heard him
call me a fat whore for the
very last time.

I cut his cheek right under
his eye; had I been
an inch higher, would
have blinded him.
his brother pushed me to
the ground but then

the three boys never messed with
me again.

“Formula #3: Conditional Probability”

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