She felt even worse for not visiting before her grandmother had passed away, but then she thought she still had years left to do that. Who knew that a virus would strike her down without a cure. Her hair dried into the same Hollywood-looking curls that her grandmother had worn, and she felt melancholy about not visiting more frequently. It had been unbelievably hard once her father died and her mother moved them to the other side of the country for work. Jennifer had always carried a sketchpad with her and a charcoal pencil. She packed away the meager groceries she’d bought from the store on
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