Paper Idea

The end of senior year raged forward like a wildfire with miles of trees racked with drought ahead.  As the year began to dwindle so did the threads that held my infamous Ursuline skirt together.  This was no good since the hem police patrolled the halls daily hoping to catch a disheveled school girl.  The last days in sight I thought I had duped the police once and for all, only to find out that I was headed for a run in with the chief of hem police: our disciplinarian.  She caught me early one morning strolling into homeroom with a wild looking hem job, which led later to an unsightly screaming match where the true story of a moment in my rhetorical history begins.