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Ginger, Not Celery

She did say what she wanted. But often, the words didn’t come out of her mouth. Instead, they were stated in a frown, a wince, or her body pulling away. It seemed so dishonest that these non-verbal utterances undermined her manners. And negative, too. Seldom did she lean into pleasure or snap her fingers in applause. But on a Tuesday in April, she at last found the courage to align her parts,

“I like ginger, not celery, bigger gestures, less melodrama, green more than red, sleek over fuzzy, hard no to soft yes,” she whispered as the hearse drove away.

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