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Sally’s serenity

Sally seems shy. She sits sheepishly, seeing sadness sauntering south. She stutters, shakes, screaming silently. “Seize some sun, Sally,” Sarah sneers. Sally’s sanity self-destructs: she scoops some saffron, swallows salt, scatters sauces. “Sullied sanctity, sinful saint,” Sarah said. Sally snubs Sarah. Sarah shouts, “Sanctimonious!” Sally’s spirit seethes. She stands, surges, slaps Sarah. Scuffle starts, strewing sanguine-stained self-esteem.

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