Her father shouts every Sunday: "CAR WASH TIME!"
And Lily squeals with undescribable delight, grabbing a pair of comfortable shorts and a loose-fitting shirt. Bringing her own special car brush and orange sponge down the spiral stairs, sprinting with happiness and shouting all the way out the door.
She loves Car Wash Days. Letting her father wet the car a quarter of the way through, then pulling the hose away from him, insisting that she does it all herself.
Scrub, scrub. Her favorite word to say as she scours the silver-coated car with her sponge, soap robbing the car of dirt. Every time she finishes a certain section of the car, that area is sparkling clean, smelling of sweet roses and honey.
Her father finally pulls the hose from her hands, spraying her everywhere until she screams with glee: "Stop, Daddy, stop!"
She waddles back up the stairs, her clothes sticking to her skin, and hair sopping with soapy water, ignoring her mother's pleas to wrap a towel around herself or she'd catch a cold.
Unfortunate is her favorite word now. It describes her better.
Instead of becoming a car washer with hair pulled back and dressed in dirty brown overalls, she became an Auror and died.
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Thought of this one off the top of my head after I saw my neighbors washing their car. Please review.
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