heading home

do you remember age seven, coming up from the pool for a milkshake? before you’d tasted coffee? before your parents’ secrets? before you felt yourself watched? before the news? before that dog and then the next? before you moved away? before you burnt it down and built again? i’m talking about wet feet burning on the hot pavement, standing on your tiptoes to place your order, spelling out your last name letter by letter, eyes fixed on the plastic menu, cradling the…

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Abby Kloppenburg

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