Personal Narrative: Rosa Parks

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Back then, I was good friends with Rosa. I still am. I worked with her at the department store, and we had boarded the same bus back home. Walking on, I noticed she paused at the sight of the bus driver. My first thought was that he must have been the same driver Rosa had told me about. I was going to wait for a different bus with her, but she kept walking. We sat side by side in a comfortable silence. The bus began to fill up more and more, and eventually it got to the point where there was a white man standing in the aisle. The bus driver noticed this, and told everyone in Rosa and I’s row to give up our seats. Sighing, I stood up and moved to stand in the aisle, but Rosa did not move. The driver reacted before I could even think of what
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