“Hi, I’m Jacob. What’s your name?” A little boy approaches Jazzy with a shit-eating grin on his grubby little face. Fuck no. I’m about to step between them when my wife stops me, shaking her head. “This is good. She needs friends,” Antonia whispers into my ear. “She needs friends of the female variety, not boys,” I grunt. “Don’t be ridiculous. She’s six.” Antonia rolls her eyes. “That’s when it starts,” I tell her. “My name’s Jasmine, but you can call me Jazzy.” My daughter smiles at the boy. Fucking smiles. I need to teach her to kick these little fuckers in the shins and then run in the
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