Copyright© notso_cliche 2014 All rights reserved. No part of this document may be reproduced without written consent from the author. Driving along the same old stretch of road, with the same rusty car, same country beats, and the same dusty clothes. My life as the sister of Harry Styles, was like no other. Every night I see the same girl walk in the arch wooden door, the same dirty blonde haired girl, same vibrant clothes, and the same smirk on her face while she tenderly holds onto the hand of my brother. This particular night when I walked up the stone driveway to my front door, I waited for that same girl to walk in the door, but, she never came.
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