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On the Day I Learned the F-Bomb

It was July, my father’s birthday. The Massachusetts kind of July — hot and sticky, blazing sun, fry-an-egg on the driveway month. I remember one summer, my mom let us throw an egg from the second-story bedroom window. It sizzled on the black tar. I remember we didn’t go to the lake that day —… Continue reading On the Day I Learned the F-Bomb

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