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For this, I envy you. How your world, your phone, money, keys and life fits into such a tiny handbag. You, like what you hold in your hand, are so very shiny. Somewhat like a maternal instinct. You hold it right. Never spill a drink on it. Find everything in one go. Unlike me. My bag is a blackhole. Such elegance. So annoying. It nestles close to you. Right under your lovely armpit.
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