I published this story about conquering my bully, a few years ago, but I titled it The Night Our House Caught Fire. These two events remain tightly bound in my memory and have provided me with hours of reflection. Every November, as the furnace begins to cut in more frequently, I think about the faulty heating system that led to our housefire. I also waffle about my feelings towards the bully. Now that I am a grandmother and understand that he was struggling with his own set of problems I feel slightly sympathetic. Please share your thoughts in the comments.
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