It was Christmas I had been knitting a scarf for my sister. The scarf is baby blue, a beautiful colour also a colour that I thought my sister would love.
“Ziva open the present from me first” I told my sister waiting for her to scream out ‘I love it thank you.’
I hear the ripping of the paper.
“Thank you, I guess” my sister said sadly.
“Do you like it” I said in a sad voice.
“I guess, but it is the wrong colour, why is it blue I love purple” she said.
“But it took me all year to make that scarf for you” I said about to cry.
“Ziva open the present from me first” I told my sister waiting for her to scream out ‘I love it thank you.’
I hear the ripping of the paper.
“Thank you, I guess” my sister said sadly.
“Do you like it” I said in a sad voice.
“I guess, but it is the wrong colour, why is it blue I love purple” she said.
“But it took me all year to make that scarf for you” I said about to cry.
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