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once called North America.
In seventy-four years, we have had exactly two.
It’s because he’s being kind. Just as he was kind to give me the bread.
“I’m sure they didn’t notice anything but you. You should wear flames more often,” he says. “They suit you.” And then he gives me a smile that seems so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness that unexpected warmth rushes through me.
