Daily Writing Blurb
The book was his mother's, his only remembrance of her since his father remarried. He remembered the stories she would read to him when his father wasn't home, and how she would bring the beautiful pictures to life. He had seen mermaids, unicorns, fairies, and even dragons frolic about his room. This time, his mother wasn't here to read it, but he opened it anyway. A small letter fell in his lap, marked "To My Son, After I Am Gone."
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