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Miss Ming gazes into the mirror, knowing she is pretty. She spends hours there, staring into misty blue eyes. Her soft, fluffy hair flows, from chocloate brown to creamy beige, back to chocolate brown. It gathers together on her face forming a masquerade mask around her glittering eyes touching her onyx nose. She sits like a queen, worshipped in Egypt charcoal tail curling around perfect socked paws. Her eyes open and close slowly acknowledging social graces. She turns and looks from the corner trying to catch her best side. Though grey now sprinkles her face in her thriteenth year, Miss Ming's youth is watched in vain. |
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