The dress called AnnaMaria with all the seduction of a lover. But it was as expensive as it was beautiful so she could only look. Then one morning it was gone. She and her mother speculated about who might have bought it as they ate their meagre supper.
The next day there was a dress box on the table when she got home from school.
“Who?”
“Your father.”
“The one who only sends eating money when the judges make him?”
Mother nodded.
AnnaMaria never opened the box.
She wore her old dress to the dance and kept her pride intact.
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