“Every day it’s the same. Poor, neglected, abused; poor, neglected, abused.” She looked at Vivian as if weighing the risk of what she wanted to say. “You know what? Sometimes I wish I had at least one of those ‘adverse childhood experiences.’ ” This is why you can’t hang out with white women, Vivian thought. She liked to bait them, though. “Why would you want that?” Paula took her final drag, tossed it, and said, “For the story.” It was the kind of comment that could make Vivian hate someone for all of eternity. As Vivian recalled the incident, she dwelled on the remark. It seemed emblematic
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