Before long, his soft, mossy shell was hard again. It almost sparkled under his sunlamp-my little nieces, my brother's three girls, thought it looked like gold and asked if he was magic. I thought so.
Albert

author of literary fiction with a southern drawl
Before long, his soft, mossy shell was hard again. It almost sparkled under his sunlamp-my little nieces, my brother's three girls, thought it looked like gold and asked if he was magic. I thought so.