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I sit and sketch. Erase. I try again. Erase. I canβt seem to draw the girl that I saw last night. Standing with no fear in her eyes. I canβt seem to draw her. Who was that girl, so sad but bright? I guess Iβll never know. Art is new to me, a new hobby and new skill. So I must try somehow. I ask around, did you see the girl near the pond and they look at me funny. β Yes we did.β They all say then laugh. I donβt know why Iβm getting laughed at. Who was that girl! I canβt seem to remember. I ask my mom and she says.
Β β Why sweetie donβt you remember?β I shake my head. My mom touches my head.Β
β Must be the seasons sweeping your memory off. Why that was you!β She exclaims.Β
β Me!β I say shocked.
Β β You donβt remember that picnic party that happened yesterday?β She asks. β
β No. But how can that be me?β I ask coriosouly
β Well it old you. Does that make sense?β She inquires
β Yes, thanks mom!β I say skipping away to draw me that day. Happy but Sad. Pretty yet dirty. I go to draw myself they way I did that day. At least Iβll try.
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