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Lipgloss and Ladybugs
I was five, and the pink pendant was my most prized possession. It had lip gloss inside. I sit with the other girls in the tire swing and we smear treacly glitter around our mouths like grown-ups.
A small girl in a large raincoat and cheeks as red as cherries wants some. “No, sorry.” I giggle, “It's just for us”.
When the class goes to the garden to find ladybugs, my sticky fingers find nothing. Blushing a deeper shade of scarlet, the raincoat girl hands me her ladybug. I give her my pendant, and we both smile.
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