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Bracha Rosman

I rarely go into Chaim’s room and with good reason. How someone can live in such chaos and disarray is a mystery to me. But I was in dire need of a pencil to complete my math homework and couldn’t find a single one anywhere in the house. So I opened the door to Chaim’s room (if you could still call it that) and peeked inside.

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

It was even worse than I had remembered. I wondered how he managed to find clean clothing each morning and his bed each night. I cautiously stepped over the stuff blocking my path and then apprehensively poked through several different piles of what looked like … well I’m not really sure. If there was a pencil anywhere in this sorry scene, it would surely be, pardon the cliché, like finding a needle in a haystack. Giving up hope, I made a beeline to the door.

That’s when I saw it. I actually had to cover my mouth to stifle my squeal, lest Chaim hear me rummaging through his private domain. Sitting in the center of his … bed? (I couldn’t be certain) was the cutest little gray stuffed elephant I had ever seen.

“I don’t believe it,” I whispered. “Chaim has a most beloved stuffed animal just like me.”

My first thought was how much trouble he was in for keeping this secret. My second thought was how I was going to get Chaim to give it to me.


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