You were at your uncle's gift. He had always known what to get you. Always. He got you a pony for a day when you were 6, a full makeup station when you were 13, and now, on your 15th birthday, you couldn't wait to see what you got. You reached into the bag, and pulled out a hand mirror. It was disappointing, but it had to have some value. It was Uncle George, after all. You looked at yourself in the mirror.
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