Title: Optional

Text: She's really gone, then. The little girl with the back of her shirt sticking out like a duck tail. The one who needed help reaching the dishes, and who begged to see the frosted cakes in the bakery window. Time and tragedy have forced her to grow too quickly, at least for my taste, into a young woman who stitches bleeding wounds and knows our mother can hear only so much. Each paragraph will be a test.

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