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Our portrait was perfectly hung and constantly dusted for shine.
But whenever he would call, I would let my phone ring until the screen went black. ” “Soon,“ I would say, as though there was more urgency in believing it to be true.
Our family is a classic case of women and the black men who left them versus the white men who stayed.
I remember being 6 and slapping my white uncle in the face to figure out why his face turned bloodred.
It didn’t feel like love at first, more like companionship at our all-time lows.