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October 9, 2015
In another life, I have a father who has kind eyes (in real life, I do, I do). He likes baking chocolate cakes on Sundays. One for me, one for him, one for my sister. In this life, I have a sister, yes. She is a bit older, has a warm smile, and talks to me through her eyes. In a crowded room I only have to locate her face then I can feel calm again, she got that smile from my father. We always eat dinner on that old, dependable, narra table, and our days are made of pearls.