I lean forward, tightening my lips over the straw. I blow and blow. The bubbles in my soda make a neat noise as the ice hits the sides of the glass. Across the table my brother imitates me. I have to stop blowing just to laugh. I am in stitches because there is something so funny about blowing bubbles
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I still make sand castles, and scuffle through Autumn leaves whenever I get the chance [that is; whenever i am somewhere that deciduous trees grow in the Autumn, which means not here in my little corner of south-east Queensland]
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I love chrunching through leaves. It has been years since I made a sand castle though.
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