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“My grandmother is a witch,” that’s what I told Arthur.
Of course, he didn’t want to believe me.
“Witches don’t exist anymore; that was long ago!”
That’s how he replied.
And yet he agreed to come with me to my grandmother’s house next Wednesday.
We sat on the sofa, closed our eyes, and my grandmother began to tell us the tale of Little Red Riding Hood.
Arthur laughed a lot at first, and then my grandmother began to change.
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