100 Words : Harsh

With chubby fingers she grips her crayon.  Her hands desperate to create on paper the masterpiece in her mind. She scribbles and scrawls crooked flowers and hearts. Her letters are reversed yet her face beams with pride over spelling her name – all by herself.

In her dainty ruffles and crinoline and patent leather Mary Janes, she proudly entered the kitchen where Father sat sipping his coffee.  His attention lost in the paper, business and politics deepen the creases in his brow. She tugs his jacket and offers up her card. He asks for her to return later. Daddy is busy.

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