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High Up
Most of my family is tall. Not the kind of over exaggerated length that stalks the people below, but the kind that extra space is gulped up by. My dad is tall. My sister and I, we are too. Our jeans, growing in extra long, and pumps with stubby heels. But we are not Giants. We reach for the sky, but do not touch it, we only get a taste.
My mother and second sister are the opposite. They are short. But not the kind of short that gets swallowed up and warped within the world, but the short that is short because we are tall. They are the kind of people that tall people like to hug, they are just the right height. And their shoes, their shoes come with extra heel. And only then do they catch up to us.
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