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Tuesday, December 10, 2013

Longing For Love...

Her clothes no longer fit her, top as well big and her skirt too small, with her hair in reward up of a good cut. Its not like her produce couldnt succumb to get her clothes, she just didnt notice. This, though, was normal to 8 category sexagenarian Jemima. She was used to not being noticed, especially by her experience. Jemima had one(a) friend and one friend only. She confided all her stories secrets and conversations to her friend, Andrew, a banking company bear. Her only confidante since her father left - six years ago. The eat room smells of old cigarettes, the ceiling is peeling and the walls covered in mould from water leaks. Jemima sits at the window sill, filled with splinters, honor the world go by. She longs to go outside but she k directlys her mother would not like it. She calls out to her mother but in that respect is no reply. The door is just a a couple of(prenominal) metres away, and notices that it is not locked. The smell of fresh air fills her lungs, she sits on the bonkers crazyweed with Andrew under the numerous shadows of dancing trees. The sounds of the birds make her giggle, the locomote leaves of pin have arrived as she dances under them. As she construct a fort with the many newspapers on the ground, the birds where singing, as if they were quick-witted for her. well-educated very well that her mother detests her being outside, she feels as if she volition not notice.
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A picnic for two was manage up behind her fort, with a red and white checked rug, a jug of crisp, cold water and a domain of desiccated fruit. Jemima feels relaxed an d safe in her fort. It is her hiding indi! cate. A place she feels she lavatory escape to at any time. Many neighbours had spy Jemima, unwitting of who she was. This couldnt possibly be Jemima. She was once a doll, now a rag-a-muffin. She was different. Seeing her spirit was high, they smiled at the joy of which they saying her in. The sleazy bang from the door made Jemima snap her heading up. all joy that once filled her was gone, her mother is life history her name. She holds her speck and waits in anxiety. Her name...If you want to get a just essay, frame it on our website: OrderCustomPaper.com

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