Once inside, Dottie twirled, reminding me of a ballerina. Her dress ballooned, the colors blurring to a fruit-salad-colored mix. She stopped and eyed me, “What do you think of my newest creation?”
I studied her outfit. Her long, loose dress, a wildly patterned Hawaiian muumuu with red, orange and yellow flowers against a white background, hung from her slim frame. I’d seen her in similar dresses. In the past year and a half, I’d gotten to be friends with Dottie and I admired her spunk and pizazz. “It’s pretty,” I said.
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