My fingers stumbled across the "play" button like a clumsy cat on ice, summoning my high school's morning announcement system at precisely 3:17 AM. The tinny speaker overhead croaked out our school's jaunty theme as I scrambled to silence it, but my panicked fingers only managed to turn the volume up to ear-bleeding levels. Mrs. Johnson, our gruff music teacher, would haunt me to the afterlife of regret if anyone caught wind of this atrocity; I envisioned her flailing violin hand as I desperately tried to find the kill switch.
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