The shop keeper’s heart melts, he gets down on his knees so that he is on her level and says, “Do you want a widdle white wabbit or a thoft fuffy bwack wabbit, or one like that widdle bwown one over there?”
The little girl blushes, rocks on her heels, leans forward and whispers… “I don’t wealy fink my pyfon gives a phuc”.
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