I was a little girl and I came home  to see my dad sitting on the steps staring at me with curious eyes. “What’s the matter for you?!” (yes, he said it just like I wrote it) “Gretchen won’t let me ride her bike anymore.” I said trying not to cry. I had my own bike.  It sat high, it was shiny and bright pink with rainbow ribbons flowing out of the handle bars and sparkles on the seat. However, it was too big and I couldn’t get the hang of riding without assistance.  But Gretchen’s bike was just my

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