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I LOVE my car and I hate it when I get scratches on my car. One day I was out with my friends and came home. I was inside resting and watching television on my bed when my brother came into the house screaming. I had no idea what was going on, but I went running downstairs. He started yelling my name and telling me to come out immediately. I thought he wsa mad at me, but I had no idea why. I was sure I hadn't done anything wrong. I went outside and my brother was standing in front of my car giving me a weird look. I asked him what was going on and he asked me if I was ok. I asked him why he was asking, if anything had happened. He asked me when I had gotten into an accident, adn I said I had no idea what he was talking about. He pointed out at the front of my car, and there it was, a huge huge huge scratch. I had no idea how it got there, and still don't. Apparently someone had run into my car and scratched it while I was home. I'm still mad about that, and still have the scratch on my car.
