Fanny

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Her first greeting, before saying hello or giving me a hug, before asking me how my flight was or how I was doing in school, was to reach her hand out and present me with a peeled orange. “Ja. Eat. I made chaltteok,” she said, raising the bag of sweet rice cakes in her other hand. “You can eat that in the car.”
Tastes Like War: A Memoir
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