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Putting Toothpaste Back Into The Tube

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Here I am, trying to complete the impossible task of putting toothpaste back into the tube, all to win this round of the youth games. Slowly, I’m making progress, though the task increasingly gets harder the closer you are to completing it. Scooping up the dark blue toothpaste, blue as the ocean, placing it on the opening of the tube, to then put your mouth to the tip of the tube, to blow it back into where it originated. Every time I go through these steps the taste of the fifty cent dollar store brand paste fills my mouth. With my taste buds instantly telling me to spit it out, though I keep the sandy mint paste with the goal to win this competition. Looking down on the paper plate holding the toothpaste, I sigh, my conscious urging me to give up on this task. Starting to stall I look around the worn down kitchen. Studying the paint peeling off the wall, studying every unique crack. Transitioning to then the tan colored tiles, with dirt stains from years of dirt being dragged in. Suddenly I hear loud commotion coming from the room beside me. Walking over to a room much too small for the amount of people in it. Also being stuffed by dingy, outdated, futons and couches, appearing as if they got picked up from off the street. All eyes are on one man standing in the middle of the room, holding a tube of toothpaste which was identical to mine. The man is wearing a light blue jumpsuit, covered in patches and stitching showing the many hours put into work. This was

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