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“Perfect you must be perfect!” your best friend whispered. She fixed the white dress that complimented your skin perfectly.

“Light and pink, your favorite look.” The birds chirped an agreement. She brushed the blush across your cheeks finishing the light pink almost natural makeup.

“You hate your hair straight!” A squirrel ran startled by the loud voice. Her fingers twisted the precisely curled orange locks of hair that laid over your shoulders.

“You are gorgeous. Absolutely beautiful.” Everyone who saw you would agree. One last glance at the cherubic girl before the coffin closed.

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