Publix Girl and the Back That Still Bites

When I was sixteen, I had one of those classic first jobs that teaches you more about capitalism than calculus. I was a cashier at Publix. In the 1980s, this was a solid teenage gig. You wore the polyester green uniform, smiled like it was your job—because it was—and never let a customer lift their... Continue Reading →

The Big Fight with Fran

It was a humid morning in May, the kind where your skin sticks to your clothes before you’ve made it past the mailbox. I had walked four blocks with baby Sergio in his stroller to Fran’s house, something I did often without thinking. I didn’t call first. I never had to. Fran had always been... Continue Reading →

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