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In by Lucía on November 19, 2010 at 2:07 am

She went running down the chairless aisle by the windows, tottering lightly back and forth in her black and white striped leggings.  Each boot landed with a consistent small thud, and her fine brown hair flew behind her. The small blur of forward motion spun onward, and in its wake a father’s long strides paced a measured distance behind his daughter.  She reached the outlet, and came to a lopsided stop, eyeing the power cord with curiosity, then misunderstanding.  She stepped over it.  Triumph.  A high-pitched giggle danced through the air, clear and mellow, and the toppling began once again.


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