September 16, 2010 § Leave a comment

You were a terrible singer, but sometimes when we were alone driving someplace or walking through the city you would break into a little improv song capturing whatever you were seeing like an old lady with a bad dye job and roots with redred lipstick slathered on the lower half of her face or a pug dog waddling down the curb with his tongue sticking out sideways.


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You are currently reading Remembered at Alison Heller.


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