I go looking for my seven year old self and sigh to find her in church again. She is seated neatly in a pew in the Little Flower chapel, as cold as a nun’s nipple. Even on the hottest summer day outside, here in the shadows it is freezing.
She is so cold that snot icicles dangle from her nostrils. The bible on her lap goes unread, the rosary between her…
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