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the Shady Grove apartment complex on the south side.
The name was a lie.
No shade.
No grove.
Just cracked asphalt baking in Georgia heat and beige stucco buildings bleeding rust.
Section 8 housing.
The bottom rung my mother spent her life trying to climb away from.
I parked next to a dumpster that smelled of rotting cabbage and wet cardboard.
I checked my continue reading …
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