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Jam Sandwich
He grew like a weed,sprouting and towering above me,but in my eyes,he was still five years old,jam under his fingernails,reaching up with a smile and sticky hands. When he was three, he struggled to speak,but by thirteen, I couldn’t shut him up,always gabbing,babbling about the football as dinner falls from his excited mouth,a stern stare…
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My Father Loved His Horses
My father was always tall, just centimeters from the sky, I would pull on his legs, laughing as he collapsed, on his hands and knees, suddenly a horse, smiling and shuffling across the carpet, as if he were in a stable. I would pull myself onto his back, a princess, in the sky, with the…