Even half a decade after the news cycle washed its hands of the matter I could still recall details with ease. Though I preferred not to.
Fiction
I once mistook loving a story for loving a person.
Pregnant potcakes from Belize and Cuba, foster failures from Miami-Dade, puppies found in trash bins.
It was the best first wedding we could have asked for. But it wasn’t enough! Clearly!
Olivia Robinson was and is much worse than I am. She’s also, in the sense that matters to her and to our world, much greater.
A very Russian turn of events: no solutions, but the trouble passes—so why bring it up?
Pagination
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