The Red Lolli

It was Harry’s Supermarket
The place we all knew
The place we all went to.

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Another

Mama was quiet. She was always quiet when she was angry, but this was the longest time yet. Two days. It had been two days since I last heard her voice. Papa would try to talk to her. He made her dinner, carried the groceries in from the car, cleaned the house; he did all the things he usually never did, but it still wasn’t enough.

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Who I See

I would look in the mirror and see a slew of different things. Curls that run rampant, tickling the underside of my tanned chin. The ends are blonde, a spur-of-the-moment choice made to kill the lower part of my hair follicles. It was a look I’d done often in high school, and one I wanted to pick up again in adulthood. Many praised the color, pointing and smiling, some I could see the humor or judgement that danced behind their eyes; humor and judgement I chose to ignore because in my own dark browns, the color of a rich chocolate that morphed to caramel in the light, I looked at the short style in appreciation and awe.

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