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Hands
Hands, everyone differs in how they look. My sister Haylie, her hands are soft and glowy, like a star. Papa's hands are tan and rough from work, never clean and full of bruises and cuts. My hands differ each day, sometimes they are neat and have nails on, other days they are cut and calloused. But my mom’s hands are so full of life, soft and warm, like a fresh baked chocolate chip cookie, melting in your mouth.
My moms hands like warm cookies, my moms hands like the touch of love, like a beautiful sunset, like waves flowing over you. The smell of chocolate chip cookies melting in your mouth. The sweet smell of honey and the warmth of the shower, when you let it sit for a while, with the water on hot. When he holds your hands, you feel safe, safer than before. The sound of waves, melting cookies, and beautiful sunsets.
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