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8th March, Diary Entry When my sister and I were little, every International Women’s Day started the same way—a knock at the door and Dad’s voice asking, “Ladies, are you decent? May I come in?” We’d shout back in our cotton nighties, insisting we were perfectly presentable, though we all knew the real reason for…
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When my sister and I were little, every March 8th began with a knock at the door and the question, “Ladies, are you decent? May I come in?” We’d shout back from under our cotton nightgowns that yes, of course we were decent—so hurry up and come in already! Besides, we knew exactly what was…
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Dear Diary, Enough of standing in my way! I could have lashed out at James. My heart raced as I prepared to confront him, but before I could, our son Oliver intervened, coming between us and grabbing his father’s hand. “Don’t you dare touch Mum!” James turned a fierce gaze on Oliver and cursed. In…
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“Get out of my way!” shouted Mark as he swung his arm, threatening to hit his wife. Emma gasped and raised her arm to shield herself, but Mark couldn’t even touch her—their son, Jake, appeared at his side, grabbing his father’s wrist. “Don’t you dare lay a hand on Mum!” Mark shot a harsh glare…
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**Diary Entry** My sister cast me out without a second thought. Margaret—Maggie to me—had always been the most important person in my world. After our parents passed, we promised each other we’d always stand by one another, no matter what. When my son grew up and moved to London, I stayed behind in Manchester. Then…
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Quando eu e a minha irmã éramos pequenas, todas as manhãs de 8 de março começavam com uma batida na porta e a pergunta: “Senhoritas, estão vestidas? Podemos entrar?” As “senhoritas”, ainda de pijama de algodão, gritavam em coro que sim, claro que estavam prontas, e que entrassem já! Até porque nós sabíamos muito bem…
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Quando eu e a minha irmã éramos pequenas, todas as manhãs do dia 8 de março começavam com uma batida na porta e a pergunta: “Minhas senhoritas, estão vestidas? Posso entrar?” Nós, nas nossas camisas de noite de algodão, gritávamos em resposta que sim, é claro que estávamos vestidas, e que entrasse logo! Além do…
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When my sister and I were little, every morning on the eighth of March began with a knock at the door and the question, “Ladies, are you decent? May we come in?” We, the ladies in our cotton nightdresses, would shout back that we were absolutely decent, so hurry up and come in already! Besides,…
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Quand ma sœur et moi étions petites, chaque 8 mars commençait par un coup à la porte et cette question : « Mesdames, êtes-vous habillées ? Puis-je entrer ? » En chemises de nuit en coton, on criait en retour qu’on était plus que prêtes, et qu’il fallait venir vite. Bon, on savait très bien…
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Когда мы с сестрой были маленькими, каждое восьмое марта начиналось одинаково: стук в дверь и вопрос: «Дамочки, вы приличны? Можно войти?» Мы, в своих ситцевых ночнушках, тут же кричали в ответ, что, конечно же, приличны, и пусть папа поскорее заходит. Особенно когда знали, что у него за спиной спрятаны подарочки! В комнату входил отец с…