which was, of course, no answer at all. She passed a hand down the sleeve of her shirt, loving its texture—it was almost velvety from so many washings. Aunt Cord could express shock, but Susan knew the truth: what lay directly ahead was whoring, pure and simple. Putting bullets in my ears, he thought.
Sheemie’s hair fell across his forehead. Tonight the old ways are refreshed, as the old ways must be, from time to time. That’s the joke of this, Susan. “How dare thee use that word in my house, ye malhablada? How dare ye?”That was when her tears began to flow—at hearing her call it her house.
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