Maybe four years old, hops rather than walks on the pavement, doing a twist one in a while, her golden curls jumping along. She has a blue balloon which she tries to blow up occasionally, but finds it more appealing to stretch it across her face like a moustache and giggle mischievously. I can see her from window up the hilly road as her little feet try to negotiate the mountain. It's hard, but she's happy. Its chilly but she's smiling. What a joy it would be to be closer to this sight of joy. Her mom is. But she is busy texting furiously. an intense expression on her face. Luckily the little antithesis on her right doesn't care anyway. She's too busy making the best out of what she has.
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