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  • Writer's pictureSophie

Day 27

Beside Lennon a young boy by the name of Arlo fidgeted through the entire service. Arlo’s mind wandered off like Lennon’s, but somehow in an awfully different way. He felt his thoughts were almost trapped in his body, constantly overflowing and making messes everywhere he went. Arlo could never stop moving, thinking, or doing anything for that matter, because if he stopped who knows where his mind would go, or if it would leave his body entirely. If these sound like complex thoughts for a six year old, they are, and it’s important that you know that. As rowdy or as disruptive as Arlo may seem, he is quite possibly the most intelligent Wells child, but maybe you’ll eventually see that.

At the end of the pew was the youngest of the bunch, Francine. I never got to know much about Francine, her being only a baby when I met her, but now standing tall at four years old. I assume she has more personality now that she doesn’t speak in googoos and gagas. You may wonder if I was at the funeral, which I was not, I had some business to attend to, but that happens to be none of your business.


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