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She remembers everything about that day....the sunlight, straining to get through the clouds, still had enough strength to find it's way through her half opened curtains, making a little pattern just there on her bed. She loved being here, in her room; we'll call her "Yours Truly", because that's how she signed all of the letters she's ever written. She knows her mother never mailed any of them, but "Yours Truly" also knows that it doesn't matter, somehow she knows it's the writing and feeling of things that matter. Today she is feeling sad...