Once again, we meet dear readers, and now let me tell you of a story. A story about a sweater. 

There was once a sweater that someone gave to an old friend of theirs, but their old friend didn't like the sweater and no one else liked the sweater because the old friend and everyone thought it had such a dreadful color. So it lived inside a cedar chest in the attic after it was given, feeling unloved. 

(Dear readers, I think the person who had bought the sweater, knew that the sweater was a dreadful color, but still bought it to give it as a 'gift' for their dear, old friend.)

Day and night, night and day. (Well, goodness gracious) - the sweater couldn't tell if it was day or night for it was always stuck inside it's dark chest in that stuffy attic; but then, if it had been given the choice of being able to pick where it wanted to stay, it would have picked the stuffy attic and not the cedar chest because then it would have been able to tell if it was day or night, and it would have been in others' company besides the company of the moody cedar chest. 

It felt so unloved. The sweater knew that it was different for the other sweaters had laughed at it many times, when it had been with the other sweaters in the store, a long time ago; but when it had been bought, it thought it would have finally had a chance to be worn and to feel loved. 

But alas! It was not to be so, at least not so for many years.

Years passed by, and the sweater still felt unloved; but soon, the sweater got the chance it waited for, for a long time.

(Now, dear readers - this is the part where we will soon have to say au revoir, but I shouldn't be telling you this. We haven't gotten to that part yet, not yet anyways.)

The old friend who had been given the sweater but had put it away and forgotten about it, had a young granddaughter, and one day, her grand-daughter came over and visited her.

Her granddaughter played outside on that day, playing in the rain and mud; and when she came inside, her grandmother (of course) scolded her and gave her a bath. But after her grand-daughter had been given a bath, the grandmother realized that her grand-daughter didn't have a sweater with her to keep her warm.

So the old friend who had been given the sweater, sent her granddaughter up to the attic and told her that she could pick any sweater she wanted that she found in the attic and keep it, and her grand-daughter went up to the attic.

(The conversation of the grandmother telling her grand-daughter that, could have gone like this, "Now, Amelia. Go upstairs and you'll find some sweaters there. When you find and pick a sweater that you want and like, you can keep it. Now go on, that's a good girl." It could have, my dear readers. I'm not saying it did, I'm saying it could have.)

Her granddaughter explored the attic, and found the moody cedar chest (who was very disturbed for being interrupted for it was taking a nap. Perhaps a beauty sleep, mayhaps? Mayhaps so, haha.)

And the sweater, the patient, dear, old sweater was found! The little girl found the sweater and the little girl decided then and there that she wanted to wear and keep it that sweater.

The little girl came down from the attic, wearing the sweater and the sweater could have died from happiness (but it didn't, don't worry.)

And oh, I'm sure you can imagine her grandmother's reactions.

"Amelia! Are you sure you want that sweater?! The sweater is such an awful color, and you wouldn't want it. You don't really want it, do you?!"

But no. The little girl put her foot down, even with her grandmother and people telling her that it was a dreadful sweater because of its color. She wore it almost, everyday and she didn't care because she was color-blind.

And so, the little girl and the sweater lived happily ever after.

THE END

A/N: This story was told by my mother. I wrote it, yes; but I wrote it down for her, and this is her story. :)