February 2012
8 posts
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Chinks in the Armor
One morning, when I was 12, I stood waiting for my school bus at the bottom of the hill where Granalta Circle meets Kemp Lane. It was a crisp Maryland morning, still early enough to see the white fog of breath and the light grey sheath of morning dew atop the fields across the street. I was alone at the bus stop each morning as I was the oldest kid in the neighborhood (there were only 4 of us),...
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