Some white shoes, a little scuff, but clean. They stuck like a sharp thumb, small hills to spoil my dress. I was getting my breasts, but I couldn't do anything about it.
Because no matter what happened mqil07 you had to smile. I had happy smiles, shy smiles, and even sad smiles.
Sometimes I smiled, we all did. My face was clean, creamy pink and smiling. These children were not orphaned, but only orphaned children. Not beautiful, or striking, or spectacular. My bright face was beautiful. And we knew good people. All that was left when you were 13 was a problem, or so we thought people thought.
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