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Her mittens started to feel colder. It was clear we needed to stop soon.

But for what? To make her sip more rotten apple juice?

‘Now she’s doing her pouty face.” I thought, “ It’s time to sit.”

I didn’t care about myself anymore. But her. She was just learning ABC’s when they came in,  and dad ran into hiding.

Days, weeks, months went by.

“He’s coming back, I promise”


He didn’t.


We had no choice but to leave. I never liked that house anyways. Yet a part of me thought we could get away with living there without anyone noticing. We almost did, until-


I felt tears coming to my eyes.


“Now I can’t show my face. She’ll start crying” I thought.

Then my throat felt suffocated. She could definitely see it now.
Then she reached into her backpack and took out a bright tulip.

“Where did you get this?”

She shrugged.

I laughed somewhat. Then cried. She deserved the world.

“So this flower just appeared in December?”  I asked, now crying the sad tears that turned into joy.

She nodded and I extended my hand to her, feeling fuller than when we sat down.

“Come on, Lacey. It’s sunset.”