Memories of Renée and Isabelle

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C’EST MOI, ISABELLE. “What? Oh my god, I never knew that you already arranged that Baby. But how, why KC? Come here and hold me, tell me, tell me, tell me, why and how you did that? You know, I asked Renée that night and she said that she had no idea. She even pinky swore Baby,” and Isabelle grabbed me by my shirt and jolted me back and forth and yelled out, “WE PINK SWORE BABY!”
“I heard you Isabelle.”
“Ah, Pardon.”
“It was nothing.”
“Nothing? It meant the world to us.”
“I know, and that’s all I cared about.”
“Oh my god I’m going to cry,” and Isabelle got up and sat on my lap, and rolled up her sleeves and said, “And to think my mother yelled at you. I should have given her a piece of my mind when I had a chance.”
I reached for my cellphone and said, “Here, Isabelle hit number ten and tell your mother.”
“Are you crazy? That’s Mother you’re speaking of and if I did that Mother would come here and never leave.”
“Ah, ah…”

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