Adult friend finded

It was the same as she'd left it: a pile of cushions by her bed for Little Brother to sleep on, a stack of poetry and famous literature on her desk that she was supposed to study to become a "model bride," and the lavender shawl and silk robes she'd worn the day before she left home.The jade comb Mulan had left in exchange for the conscription notice caught her eye; it now rested in front of her mirror.Pink cherry blossoms and violet plum blossoms graced the sweeping trees. She'd hammered the stone in half, eager to catch a few worms to play with. She used to play by the pond when she was a little girl, catching frogs and fireflies in wine jugs and feeding the fish leftover rice husks and sesame seeds until her mother scolded her.The petals fell like snowflakes, dancing and swirling until they touched the soft, verdant grass. There weren't any, of course, but her mother had helped her find some dragonflies by the pond instead, and they'd spent an afternoon counting them in the garden. And beyond the moon gate was-Mulan's hand jumped to her mouth. That smell of home- of Baba's incense from the family temple, sharp with amber and cedar; of noodles in Grandmother Fa's special pork broth; of jasmine flowers that Mama used to scent her skin.” ― “She started to head out, but she passed her room.

I started playing around with the staples of the house: rice, beans, plantains, and chicken.But 'Buela let me expand to the different things I saw on TV. When other kids were saving up their lunch money to buy the latest Jordans, I was saving up mine so I could buy the best ingredients.Fish we'd never heard of that I had to get from a special market down by Penn's Landing.As we get a bit older and our childhoods are robbed - all childhoods are robbed or broken; it is usually a sudden, violent transformation - we seek out those who relate to our transition.As teenagers, we rebel and we attempt to create a new reality.Mulan's gaze lingered on the comb, on its green teeth and the pearl-colored flower nestled on its shoulder.She wanted to hold it, to put it in her hair and show her family- to show everyone- she was worthy. She needed to show them that she had bloomed to be worthy of her family name.One flat of pale green figs and a bushel of new harvest walnuts were tied to the back of his scooter, along with two crates of pomegranates- half to squeeze for fresh morning juice and the other to split and seed for rice-and-meatball soup.Three fat chickens pecked in the yard, unaware of their destiny as he sharpened his cleaver.On the farthest burner, whole bitter oranges bobbed in blossom syrup, to accompany rice pudding, next to a simmering pot of figs studded with cardamom pods for preserves.” ― “Dad held Mama as if she were made of glass. She didn't know how to corral or change either of these emotions; her love for him was all tangled up in hate.Right now she felt both emotions crowding in on her, each jostling for the lead.” ― “Those are the things we really seek in one another: As kids, we seek those who enjoy the same games and define fun the same way we do.

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