Piyali Mukherjee

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I lay there the first night with her, my head on her breast, her dark, hard nipple near my mouth, and I said I wasn’t like the others, I would keep her secrets, I wouldn’t try to tell her story the way everyone else did, the way I’d done with Snow White and Rapunzel and all those other girls. She was better than the other girls, and I was kinder than the other writers.
The Bread We Eat in Dreams
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