Until today, he’d never talked about the farm. Now, when he closes his eyes, he can see the logo from the family business. A potato plant. Leaves up top, potatoes down below. All those stems and roots joining the two—like veins and arteries. His father always said that families were the same. Everything was connected, everything worked in synchronicity. Gottfried got to see the sun and he got to flower. His kids were harvested from shallow soil. His grandkids, accidental plants for the most part, would eventually mature and one day they, too, would rise up from the dirt, their brittle roots
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