you like guns. once your stepfather shot off his own finger with a gun. the newspapers called it a domestic dispute. your
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Corner Booth Chardonnay Stepping through the back door, I squint against the shadows before sliding into the corner booth of the bar
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I live a quiet life now. By “quiet,” I mean, in part, uneventful—depending on one’s definition of “event.” My husband says, “I
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You shuck oysters, separate herbs from their stems, brush dirt and scrape the gills from mushrooms. You dice onions, slice garlic, shave
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