I'll be all of fourteen! Whoopee! Cake from double A on Stockton Street, and presents.
Clothes, of course. I need clothes.
What I really want is strumpet heels. Tall elegant spikes in blood blood red. To go with the lipstick I probably won't be getting either.
The closest I'll come to the harlot shoes will be scarlet socks. Probably just as well, I can't run in heels. And it is impossible to walk up Pacific Street wearing anything but flats.
I hope my uncles give me lots of books. They're good that way.
This is going to be a good month, I can tell.
I think I'll buy myself a can of whipped cream.
Go ahead, guess what I will do with it.
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