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It was a Friday night. Late opening in our city, a night when it is de rigueur to shop after work, and then enjoy a simple meal out.
My husband needed some business clothes, and we went down to the basement of a large store in the men’s section. It was a store where he always found clothes that he liked, so we spent a fair bit of time looking. Our daughter, quite young at the time, perhaps three or four, was with us.
She was always a good little girl, well-behaved, and patient for the most part.
We duly met up with friends later and enjoyed a meal together, then made our way home. On the way, our daughter spoke up. “Nobody’s allowed to look in my bag,” she said.
“Why is that?” I asked.
“Just because,” she answered flatly as she tightly held onto the said bag.
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