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My close-knit buddy's piece of writing: Farah

Your shirt got torn. You asked me to mend it. I took your shirt. I smiled. You smiled back at me. And it was a meaningful smile. But, yes there was a but. I hesitated and it was not a good sign. I didn’t know whether I could do it or not. I wasn’t sure. I tried. And I kept trying. I didn’t want to give up. I remembered I smiled at you when you gave me that shirt. And you smiled back at me. Yes, it was your meaningful smile that kept me to keep on trying to mend your shirt. But I was scared. I tried so many times. But I failed. It was wrong. I knew it was wrong. Yet I still tried. But I had to stop. There’s no point anymore. I couldn’t go on. Everything was wrong. So, I stood up from the armchair that I had been sitting for about 3 hours just to mend your shirt. I put your shirt on the coffee table. It was not mended. I left the room. I left the house. I walked away. I didn’t look back.


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