By Aouda Fogg

I'd spent years thinking it, feeling it. My mother left. My father might never have explicity *said* it, but he said other things, and to a ten year old, even to an eighteen year old, the message was pretty clear. Peru seemed to confirm it. All my men, lost. I'd even failed at marriage. But then came Sandburg. His friendship, then his love, and at night, in the dark, when he holds me, whispers my name, tells me I'm a good man, that he loves me, I know it's not true. I am not a mistake.


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