Show, don’t tell

The room was hot and stuffy.

The room was on metaphorical fire! The sun hammered down on us through the window and melted the plastic on my iPad case. Our noses were stuffier than a sick kid at chuck e cheese

John said mean things to me. (For this one, you have to use dialogue. No profanity, please.)

John was never the kind type. He would always go up to you and say something like “Kill yourself” or call you a “Dingus.” He would always give you the hitler stare just to rub it in even more

Clem felt ill.

I felt Clem’s forehead. He felt like a fresh-out-of-the-oven ham. He sweated buckets and looked whiter than Ron weasley

Dana was hungry.

My stomach growled. I felt like I was going to pass out at any second, I hadn’t eaten in what felt like ages

Grandma hated me.

Grandma acted like a sweetheart to everyone except me. For some god given reason she despised me. She never fed me any cookies while my brother was gorged with them

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