Rosemary
Personal Essay by Jacqueline HeAll summer long, we played checkers out on your front porch. The discs clinked under our fingertips, which shone with grease from the potato chips we licked but would not eat. This was our habit: to pop a chip under our tongues and lave the brittle flake, swallowing only the aftertaste of salt and sour cream. Earlier, you had dumped sugar-free…
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