Childhood Memory #5 (Last one, because 5 is a nice round number)
I remember the taste of the stale afternoon air, swathed in the sweat of screaming children, shadowed by darkened corridors and heavy with the tension of a shattered friendship. Her words were little metal slivers, sharp like slits, carving bitterness out of the air. "I'm with my better, cooler friends".
My first recollection of real sadness.