The house on D Street was red. It had a blue roof. It was old and little. But Corita liked it. She had been born in that house.
Corita was seven and a half. One day her mother hugged her tight and said, "I have something to tell you. We have to move to another house."
Corita cried a little , but she got over it. She put all her toys into a box. Not her dolls, though. She held on to her dolls.
The moving men came. They took the furniture and clothes. They took Corita's box of toys.