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standing between me and a neighbor’s dog because I was afraid. Tiffany at thirteen, showing me how to curl my hair before a school dance, impatient but gentle. Tiffany before the spotlight became oxygen.
I did not hug her. But I said, “I’m sorry.”
She nodded, tears falling.
General Shaw walked me to my car.
The night air was cold and clean. Denver spread continue reading …
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