She had a mole on her face. She hated it. It was on her left cheek. It wasn't far from her mouth. She touched it every day. She wished that it would go away. But it didn't. It was an ugly brown bump on her cheek. It was a dark brown circle. It was about the size of a pencil eraser. Everyone could see her mole. Everyone looked at her mole. She hated her mole. Every night she scrubbed her cheek extra hard. Maybe she could scrub the mole away. Every day she pressed down on the mole with her finger. Maybe she could press the mole away. She asked her mom to cut the mole off with a razor. "I won't cut it off with a razor," said her mom. "I'm not a doctor. I'll take you to a doctor. Maybe he can cut it off with a razor.