Stories we tell

Off the Beat

I was supposed to follow him. But just as Harrison started to crawl through the gap, someone hollered. The grown-ups were after us.
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Mom’s rules for the internet

Miss Communication

It was a 20-minute drive from my childhood home in San Diego to my middle school one town over. Twenty minutes that my mom never failed to capitalize on. It was the time for her proverbial lectures on the dangers of the world. I was her captive audience, and our
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