Laughter
Nenny and I don't look like sister the way that Rachel and Lucy look like. Our laughter is not like their bell giggle but like a pile of plate's sudden breaking. I and Nenny can tell one Mexican house at the same time.
A junk store
There is a junk store where all kinds of used things are sold. The house is very dark with only small window. The owner, a black man, only turned on the light when you want to buy something. Hundreds of tables with legs up-side down and rows and rows of refrigerators that don't work properly make the room so small that there is only a narrow aisle to get through.
Nenny noticed a music box. I imagine that the box was painted beautifully with a ballet dancer inside. In fact the music box is plain and simple. When the owner started the music box, it sarted like when you run your fingers across the teeth of a medal comb.
I pretend not to care about the disappointing box. To my surprise, Nenny planned to buy it. However the owner shut the lid and said it was not for sale.
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