Understanding Heather Gump A Short Story by Anonymous Heather Gump looked at the giant book in her hands and felt fuzzy. She walked over to the window and reflected on her dull surroundings. She had always loved sleepy Cambridge with its nasty, naughty nooks. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel fuzzy. Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Rachel McCallister. Rachel was a cowardly saint with fluffy lips and brunette fingernails.
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