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Anchor 1
  • Writer: Sheri McGuinn
    Sheri McGuinn
  • Jun 9
  • 12 min read
Man sitting on deck with drink in hand, watching the sunset over ocean.

James watched the sun slide into the ocean and took another sip of his ginger ale. Maybe his decision to forego alcohol had been hasty. He was only thirty-eight. He was still in good shape, thanks to hitting the gym every morning before work. Work, of course, was not doing so well, not in this economy. Some of his investors had been devastated by the slump, but his own portfolio was already recovering.

“I want your life. The view from this deck, your house, your lady, I want it all. Well, not yours, but I want the whole package.”

James turned to his new assistant. At this kid’s age, James had been determined to make his fortune by the time he was thirty-five. He’d actually achieved all of his goals before that, closer to thirty.

“You’ll have it. Won’t take you long,” said James.

“You think?”

“Sure, Dave. You’re good at closing those sales, and you’re pushing all the right products, the ones that give the company the best return.” That’s what had gotten some of James’ clients into trouble. “You’ll move right up.”

“I heard about that woman who went off on you. That was crazy.”

“Yeah, well, looks like you’re ready for another drink.”

James led the younger man back into the house. He wasn’t going to discuss Mrs. Atwater with Dave. Her husband had committed suicide. Everyone told James it wasn’t his fault the man’s investments had tanked. It was the market… But James knew he should have counseled the man to get out sooner, even though it wasn’t the best move for the company.

Charlotte had insisted on this party for his birthday, including everyone from the office. She wanted him to be the up-and-coming guy she’d hooked up with ten years ago. He’d scared her with his talk of retiring, selling out, maybe getting a sailboat and living on it in the Caribbean.

James was relieved when the last guest left. He just wanted to go to bed.

“Your father called to wish you a happy birthday,” Charlotte said as she put her earrings away.

“When?”

“While you were talking with Bob.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Interrupt you while you’re talking to the head of the company?”

True. He would have been upset with her for doing that a few years ago. Maybe even a few months ago. But today, he’d have taken the call.

“It’s the middle of the night in Kansas. I can’t get back to him now.”

“You can call him tomorrow if you really want to.” Charlotte slid into their bed. “I didn’t think it was that important. It’s not as if the two of you are close.”

She turned slightly, making the silken strap fall off her shoulder, and gave him that smile she’d used to catch him in the first place. What the hell, Dave was right. He had everything he’d ever wanted.

As the weeks wore on, James shrugged off thoughts of retirement. It had been that pushing-forty birthday combined with Mrs. Atwater’s attack, that’s all. He did, however, start making more recommendations that put the customer’s interests first.

When he lost his place as top salesman, he didn’t mention it to Charlotte. Dave was no longer his assistant; he was moving up the ranks on his own, quickly.

When June rolled around, James called his father. “Happy Father’s Day, Dad.”

“James! Good to hear from you. I called on your birthday. You were busy.”

His father had never met Charlotte and never referred to her, as if James were still going through an anonymous string of girlfriends.

“I was hoping you could get away for a week, do some fishing with me,” James offered.

“Actually, I was hoping you could come here for a visit.”

James hadn’t been back since he first left for college. He’d worked his way through school, and it was easier for his father to close the garage for a few days than for James to take time off from multiple jobs. Besides, his mother had died when he was nine. There wasn’t anyone else to see back there.

“You need to get away from that garage, Dad. Come fishing with me. We can meet in San Diego and I’ll charter a boat, see if you can get a Marlin.”

There was plenty of room at the house, James could have had his father come there for a visit and they could still have gone deep-sea fishing, but he told himself his father wouldn’t be comfortable there. He knew he wouldn’t approve of Charlotte. She was gorgeous, an excellent hostess, and had a successful career of her own. She wasn’t interested in marriage or children.

“I was thinking you should meet Sean,” his father said.

“The kid who helps you out at the garage? Hasn’t he gone off to college yet?”

“No, he should have.”

This conversation was going nowhere, like most of their conversations. That’s why it had taken months to return the birthday call. James cut off his father.

“Well, if you can’t get away, you can’t. Let me know when you can and I’ll try to get some time off myself, so we can go fishing.”

“Yeah, we’ll go fishing.” His father paused. “Are you happy, son?”

“You know it,” James replied. “I’ve got everything I ever wanted.”

***

Two weeks later, James was in his cubicle at work when his cell phone rang. Customers didn’t have that number and calls were only forwarded to it when he was out of the office. His brow knit at the familiar number – the garage. His dad always called in the evening or on weekends.

The kid who worked with his dad blurted out the news. “Jim had a massive heart attack yesterday and died before they could get him to the hospital.”

“Just like that? With no warning?” James felt empty.

“Well he’d had that bypass surgery.”

“What bypass surgery?”

“A couple years ago.”

“He never told me he had any surgery.”

“I guess you were busy,” the kid said scathingly.

“He should have told me.”

“The funeral’s Friday, ten o’clock, at Smith’s. We figured you might be able to take a long weekend and actually show up.”

“We?”

“Yeah, the people who cared about him.”

James forgot quiet voice cubicle etiquette. “Listen, I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but you just worked for him. You get that? Don’t talk to me about my father like that. He was my only family and maybe we didn’t see each other all the time, but that doesn’t mean we didn’t care about each other. You got that?”

James ended the call before the kid could reply. People in the other cubes had stopped working and were staring at him. Now they hastily looked down and got back to their jobs, except Dave. Dave came over to James’ desk.

“Are you alright?”

“My father died.”

“Jeeze, that’s tough. If you need to take some time off, I can watch your accounts for you.”

James stared at Dave for a moment, seeing himself at that age. Of course Dave would watch his accounts for him, and take as many as he could while he was at it.

“The funeral’s Friday. I’ll fly out Thursday night. It might take a few days to arrange for disposal of all his property, but I’ll be gone less than a week. I’ll have my cell and laptop.”

He was surprised when Charlotte insisted on going with him.

“It may take a few days, honey. Do you really want to be in Kansas that long?”

“He was your father. I should be with you.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“Yes, I do. The way that boy talked to you on the phone, you need someone with you who knows you loved your father, that it wasn’t your fault it was so hard for both of you to get away at the same time more often.”

He went online to make reservations while Charlotte made dinner. When he was done, he went to the kitchen and pulled her back against him, and gave her cheek a kiss.

“Thanks for going with me. We’ll fly to Lincoln on Thursday and stay in a decent motel, then drive down to Marysville Friday morning.”

“There isn’t a motel in Marysville?”

“Nothing that shows up online. We should be able to stay at my dad’s house, anyway, once we get there.”

In Lincoln, they rented a Cadillac and stayed at the Marriott. When they got to Marysville the next morning, James drove Charlotte around town to show her the sights.

“It’s changed a lot,” he said. “A lot of businesses are gone, a lot of it’s new.”

“Twenty years is a long time.”

“Yeah, but it didn’t change in my head. Silly, huh?”

“Normal,” Charlotte replied. “I mean, I grew up in L.A., so I’ve watched all the changes happen, but if I hadn’t been there since I was a kid, I wouldn’t know what to expect.”

He drove by his father’s house.

“When I was little, my mother always had a huge garden there, right where they put that trailer. Dad must have sold off the lot. He should have told me if he was having money problems.”

Then they drove past the garage.

“I started working with my dad the summer after my mother died. I was only ten, but he wanted to keep me out of trouble, so he had me helping out, doing clean-up and learning by watching.”

“I can’t imagine you as a mechanic.”

“I was actually pretty good at it.”

“Mechanics always have dirty nails.”

“Yeah. It’s almost impossible to get all the grease off.”

That was the biggest reason he’d never come back. He’d never told Charlotte about losing his virginity with Mary Jo in the back of that old pickup out on the logging road. They’d been lying on the blanket afterwards, enjoying the sun, when Mary Jo took his hand, then pulled back with an instinctive “euw” from the forever grease embedded by his nails. He’d avoided her after that, and when he left for college a few weeks later, he never looked back.

“It’s nine-thirty,” Charlotte said.

He found the funeral home and parked. Mr. Smith wasn’t anyone he remembered, but the man recognized him immediately.

“James, I’m so glad you were able to get here early so you can have a private viewing.”

He led them into the room where James’ father waited in a plain but tasteful casket.

“You got his hands clean,” said James.

“It wasn’t that hard. He’d been working primarily with the customers the last few years. Sean’s been doing all the mechanics.”

James didn’t want to sound ignorant of his father’s life, so he didn’t ask why his father had stopped working on cars, or who had made all the funeral arrangements, or any of the other questions that had started bubbling up as he drove Charlotte around town.

“I’d like a few moments alone with him.”

“Of course.” Mr. Smith led Charlotte out of the room.

James stood staring at the body that had once housed his father.

“Were you proud of me?”

He’d never asked before. Now he’d never be sure. There had been compliments, congratulations on promotions, that sort of thing, but he’d always had a sense there was an underlying disappointment. Mostly, they’d stuck to safe conversations. Except his father’s last question, ‘Are you happy?’ He’d said yes, but was it true?

“James, honey, people are starting to arrive for the viewing.”

He looked up at Charlotte and nodded. “I’m ready.”

He was shocked at the number of people who came through in the next hours to show their respect for his father. He’d been a good man, an honest mechanic, not a prominent man, but a key figure in the community.

“When my husband first died and I didn’t have any income, your father kept my car running until I could find work and start to pay him back.”

The same sort of story repeated throughout the morning. Most of the people he didn’t recognize. He did notice Mary Jo was among those who followed them to the cemetery for the interment. She didn’t seem to be with anyone in particular.

Finally it was over. Charlotte stood by James as people shook his hand and offered their last condolences as they headed for their cars. Mary Jo came up and gave him a quick hug.

“I’m so sorry.” There were tears in her eyes. “He was a wonderful man.”

Charlotte put her arm around James. “We know. We’ll miss him terribly.”

Mary Jo gave Charlotte a long look and nodded, then walked away.

“While other people were talking to you, the attorney let me know he’s arranged to disclose the will formally this afternoon at four,” said Charlotte. “He gave me his card with the address. He said that young man who worked with your father will also be there, that he’s in the will.”

That made sense. His father would remember a loyal employee.

A young man greeted them outside the attorney’s office. He offered his hand to James somewhat stiffly. “I’m Sean. Sorry I couldn’t make it to the funeral. Had an emergency repair.”

“Dad would have understood.”

They went into the office together and were shown into a meeting room where they all sat at a table made for much larger groups.

“Well, James,” the lawyer cleared his throat. “Did your father ever tell you his plans for the garage?”

“Not really.”

“Well, your father decided he wanted the garage to stay open, you know…”

James’ first thought was that his father had put in a clause to assure the kid would have the first chance to buy the place. Then the cold certainty that his father had left the garage to Sean settled into James’ stomach.

But the lawyer continued, “What your father decided is to leave the garage to the two of you, fifty-fifty. If you both want to sell, you can do that only after working together at the place for a year.”

“What!” Charlotte was the one who shouted; James was speechless.

“James can’t do that,” Charlotte explained. “He’s got a good job; he can’t walk away from it for a year and expect it to be there when he gets back.”

“That’s always an option,” said the lawyer. Then he turned to James. “But if you don’t come back within a month and stay for a year, the garage is all Sean’s to keep or sell.”

‘Are you happy?’ had been his father’s last question. He’d lied, but his father had heard the truth. A year break might be exactly what he needed to regroup and plan a new career. But he’d need a place to live.

“What about the house?” James asked.  

“You dad sold the house long ago,” said the lawyer, surprised. “You didn’t know that?”

“No, he always joined me for vacations. It was the only way to get him to take time off from work.” No one seemed to believe this half-truth.

“Jim split the property when I was a kid and set himself up in a trailer,” said Sean. “He sold the house to my mother.”

Maybe the kid was his illegitimate half-brother. His father had never been involved with a woman while James was growing up, but after he left, it would have been reasonable for him to get involved with someone.

“The trailer and the property that’s on is yours, James,” said the lawyer.

“So I could stay in it and work the garage with Sean here for a year, then we can sell the place and you can get out of this town.” He finished with a nod to the kid, a truce offering.

“That’s fine with me,” said Sean. “I loved working at the garage, but that was because Jim was there.”

“Your father practically raised Sean,” the lawyer explained.

How could he not have realized? Why wouldn’t his father have said something? There was no striking resemblance, but there was enough. The kid had to be his half-brother.

“There must be a way to break this will.” Charlotte’s voice cut through the uncomfortable silence. “James would lose more by giving up his job than he’d ever get from selling a garage in this little town.”

Her condescension lay heavily in the room.

“Actually,” said James, “I’ve been thinking of making a career change anyway. The year will give me time to sort out the future.”

Charlotte glared at him.

“It’ll take a few weeks to clear things up so I can come back,” said James.

“We’ll clean up the trailer for you,” said Sean. All seemed to be forgiven.

 

Charlotte didn’t talk to him about it until he turned in his two weeks’ notice.

“I went with you to stop you from doing something this stupid. You’re never going to be happy anywhere. Why not keep a good job where you don’t have to be a grease monkey?”

“I need a change. I want to do work that’s useful.”

“You help people plan their future.”

“I help them lose it...”

“Well, I’m not moving to have my future in Podunk. I have a good job here and I’m keeping it. And I’m keeping the house. You’ll be glad when you come to your senses.”

“The garage is only for a year, but I’m not coming back to this life,” said James. “I don’t want to work for a system that pretends to care about people. I want to do something that’s tangible, give people something they really need instead of convincing them to buy whatever will make the most profit for a corporation.”

He moved most of his personal belongings into storage. He and Charlotte worked out an agreement on the house and had a lawyer draw it up formally. When Sean called to let him know the trailer was ready, but not very big for two people, he admitted the relationship was at an end.

***

“Are you sure you’re not going to come to your senses and come back?” asked Charlotte. “You’re not taking much.”

“I’m going to be living in a trailer for the next year. I won’t have room for anything else. I’ll get my other things out of storage when I know what I’m doing next.”

She gave him a stiff hug and watched him drive away.

Three days later, he got to Marysville mid-morning and drove straight to the garage. The big doors were open and Sean was working on an engine. He came out to greet James, wiping his right hand on a rag, then holding it out. James ignored the remaining grease and shook hands.

“Glad you’re here,” said Sean. “Mom’s been helping out with the phone and paperwork, but she’s using her vacation time to do it.”

“Your mother?”

Sean looked over James’ shoulder and grinned. “Come on, he’s here finally.”

James turned into a hug, then Mary Jo stepped back and smiled at him.

“Welcome home.”            


The audio version of this story is at


Defining Moments is a series of character studies and defining moments- short sketches to whet your appetite. If you’d like reading more about one of these characters, leave a comment.

Thanks.


Author Sheri McGuinn in bucket hat at Machu Pichu

 
 
 
  • Writer: Sheri McGuinn
    Sheri McGuinn
  • May 26
  • 6 min read
Girl packing a bag during blackout. Her father behind her. Only light is lantern. People walking dark city street.

“I can’t get a signal.”

Her voice seems so loud in the electronic silence of our apartment. My twelve-year-old daughter turned off her phone as soon as the power went out. She’s gotten used to doing that during the rolling blackouts, so we can use it if mine dies. So she explains why she broke that rule.

“I wanted to call Mom.”

This will be our third night without power. It’s time to be straight with her. “I quit getting reception when the lights went out. No internet, either.”

Betrayal drips from her voice. “You said you were saving your battery, when I asked you for news, when I asked if Mom was okay.”

“I thought I’d be able to tell you later…”

She’s a smart kid, smart enough to be scared. “So, this could be happening everywhere?”

I nod. “Your mom was right. We probably should have joined that cult with her.”

“Sustainable living community… it’s not a cult.”

Tanya went there with her mother last August, but when Alicia decided to stay, I insisted Tanya should come home and go to school.  Now she turns her back on me and I follow her into the kitchen, where she opens the refrigerator door wide and stares at the little food inside.

I slam it shut, nearly getting her fingers. “You know better.”

We’ve developed a system with the rolling blackouts. We keep two gallon jugs of water in the freezer and, as soon as the power goes out, put one in the refrigerator. Then we leave the refrigerator and freezer shut until the power goes on. Usually there’s still some ice in the jugs and the food’s okay. We use anything that spoils easily, anything that started to thaw in the freezer.

Only there’s still no power, no way to cook or make smoothies.

“Dad. It’s like at least a hundred degrees in here. No way there’s any ice left in the jugs. Some of the food’s probably already ruined. Besides, there’s nothing else to eat.”

I run my hand through my hair and nod. Alicia would have had enough canned goods to last for weeks. Not me. We’ve eaten every bit. Tanya put the pasta we had in a pot of water in the sun on the patio. It didn’t really cook, but it softened up enough to eat with a can of tomato sauce.

She’s right. The jugs of ice are nothing but water and everything’s warm to the touch. She empties everything out onto the shelf. The lettuce is rotting and the face she makes when she sniffs the milk tells me it’s sour. We should have used it this morning. Or yesterday. It may not be a hundred degrees in the apartment, but it’s probably close. There’s no way to be sure – the thermostat’s electric too. But the weather outside has been in triple digits off and on for weeks, and it’s not even summer yet.

Why didn’t I listen to Alicia? I laughed at her when she got a Sun Oven to use on the patio. She took it with her.

We eat what’s safe from the refrigerator and I cart the rest to the garbage can out in the apartment complex parking lot. The cars don’t work, either. I tried to go to work the first morning and it was dead, not so much as a click of life. Same thing was happening to half a dozen other commuters. I went back inside and told Tanya she could stay home from school and I’d play hooky from work so we could play board games all day. Her Harry Potter Clue wasn’t as much fun with just two of us, but she loved beating me at cribbage and backgammon. As the apartment heated up, I tried to wet washcloths for our heads, but the water wasn’t running, either.

“That’s okay,” Tanya chirped. “I filled the tub last night like Mom always did for blackouts.”

My twelve-year-old is handling this better than me.

The garbage can is overflowing with bags that can’t contain the rancid smell of rotting food. I go by my car for one more try. I’m surprised Tanya hasn’t already suggested going to her mother’s community – I have to start thinking of it that way, so I don’t call it a cult again. Still nothing – the car may as well be a rock for all the good it will do us. I sit back against the seat and one tear slides past my blinking eyes and down my cheek. I have to pull it together for Tanya.

My ears throb with the absolute silence in the city. No traffic, no motors, no air conditioners, no electric hum of thousands of different pieces of civilization. But the faint stench of burning rubber reaches through my musing to clarify my resolve. We have to get out of the city.

It’s sixty miles to Alicia’s community. If we had bikes we could do it in a long day, but they didn’t seem to be a safe idea in the city. So we’ll walk, wear our running shoes with good socks. Take the bare minimum. It’s hot during the day and we may have trouble getting enough water, so we should probably leave now, walk through the night. I think Tanya can do that. We slept some this afternoon when the heat made us too drowsy to play games.

Maybe by the time we get there, the power will be back on and I’ll feel like a fool. It’s only been two and a half days. Snowstorms and hurricanes knock out power a lot longer than that. Usually they say shelter in place.

But the apartment, the city with all that pavement, is too hot. And we’ve run out of food. I’d have to find an open store, if they haven’t all been looted.

It was such a relief when Alicia moved out and no one was nagging me to buy a chest freezer, or a dehydrator, or… Well, she ordered the solar cooker herself, without consulting me. She used it a few times before she took it and left. It worked pretty good. It just seemed silly when there was a perfectly good oven in the apartment and AC to keep the place cool.

I’m sure her doomsday friends will have explanations for all of this – government plots or aliens or both – all kinds of whacky conspiracy-theory nonsense. When the power does come back on, they’ll be suspicious of that, too. I don’t want Tanya getting sucked into their paranoia.

But the way the internet and cell reception crashed right along with the electric – that was rather unsettling. Some kind of magnetic force? Would that do it? There’s been some talk of the poles reversing. But wouldn’t that have given all of us a jerk?

I’m still sitting in the car, trying to decide what to do, when I hear them. I’ve left the door open because of the heat – the battery’s dead so there’s no light and no way to lower the power windows. The voices are quiet, soft murmurs. A baby’s cry quickly hushed. It’s a group of people walking down the middle of the street, making their way in the dark. Headed for the freeway ramp, I’d bet. Getting out of the city before murder and mayhem become the order of the day.

That’s what we need to do, too.

I get off my duff and head for the apartment, thinking of ways to present this plan to Tanya, but she’s already packing – sensibly, of course. Alicia prepared her for this, taught her the difference between essential and superfluous. I remember her telling Tanya, “Pick one small, light item that’s just to make you feel good, to connect you with what you’re leaving. That connection is essential, too. It will help you remember who you are, what kind of person.”

She’s chosen a printed photo of the three of us on a ride at Universal Studios, a year and a lifetime ago, just before Alicia decided to check out that sustainable living center. I had to get back to work, so she went with Tanya, saying it would be a good education. When I insisted, she brought Tanya back and left with her solar cooker.

There’s a crack like a firework, or a gunshot. I have no clue how to tell the difference. Maybe we should wait to go later, or in daylight.

Tanya sees my indecision and channels her mother. “We’ve got soft-soled shoes. We just need to stay in the shadows – if there are any places that aren’t in shadow – and not talk at all. We’re headed to Mom, right?”

I nod. She’s packed a bag for me, too.

“I put most of the spices in your bag,” she says. “If this really is worldwide, they’ll be valuable for trading.”

“I suppose my bank books may as well stay here.”

She shrugs.

One of my accounts gave me a printed checkbook. I bring it and all the plastic, in case they’re of any value going forward. In the drawer with my bank books are passports for all three of us – we’d planned to spend Christmas at a cabin in Canada, a place run by an old friend of mine. Instead Tanya split the day between me and her mother. I slip them into my bag. Who knows?

I lock the apartment on our way out. I have to believe we may be able to come home, back to our real lives. I have to believe this is just a hiccup.


© Sheri McGuinn

 
 
 
  • Writer: Sheri McGuinn
    Sheri McGuinn
  • May 10
  • 3 min read

Updated: May 26

Foaming edge of wave meeting hard packed sand. Beach Story by Sheri McGuinn.
Sometimes it's fun to write in a different style. The Furious Fiction challenge demands more description than I usually give. When the prompt placed the story on a beach (with specific words used), I took a scene from All for One - Love, War, & Ghosts, changed names, the point of view, some of the action, and my writing style to create Beach Party - First Kiss.

Teenagers gathered around the crackling driftwood fire in small groups, drinking, their chat punctuated by rolling belches followed by laughter. The fire’s smoke was sweetened by coconut-perfumed skin. The autumn day had been warm enough to sunbathe. Now Sue zipped her denim jacket, wishing she’d worn jeans instead of shorts, feeling out of place.

Trying to be less of a nerd, Sue had let Mary drag her along with her buddies to this, Sue’s first teenage party. Now Mary was nowhere to be seen and Andy and George were drinking with some other boys. And Mike? He was the driver, the popular one. Surely he hadn’t gone home.

The receding tide had left firm, flat sand between the rocky beach and the water. There she saw a circle around a bottle – most squatting, a shivering few sitting on jackets. Mike was there. Sue held her breath a moment, then dared to join them by sitting on her feet, letting the wet sand grind against her bare knees.

They took turns spinning the bottle, laughing at themselves for playing the old-fashioned game. Most of the matched couples exchanged awkward, closed-mouth pecks – sometimes not even on the mouth. When Mike spun the bottle, Sue curled her fingers out of sight and crossed the tips against the sand, but Melissa got his dramatic, screen-worthy kiss. When at last it was Sue’s turn she held the sandy glass of the bottle, gauging its weight, hoping to spin it just fast enough to stop as it pointed to Mike. Instead, a pimply-faced boy she barely knew gave her a slobbery smack on the lips. Sue pulled away as if bitten.

The boy laughed. “What, was that your first kiss?”

She wiped her hand across her mouth and shook it as if to get rid of excessive slobber. Sue gave the boy a withering look, got up, and brushed off her knees. She held herself like a queen as she strode away from the gathering. Inside, she worried the giggles behind her meant they knew it was her first kiss.

When all she could hear was the waves, Sue realized she was walking away from the car, into the dark, toward the point that reached out into the ocean, ending the beach. An almost-full moon gave enough light to walk, as long as she stayed on the flat sand. The whisper of the waves was soothing. If she walked to the point, maybe no one would notice her when she went back. She could stay by the fire, away from that silly game.

A warm hand slid across Sue’s palm and gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. She gasped and turned to lock eyes with Mike. He smiled and tilted his head toward the point. They walked hand in hand all the way to the end of the sand. There, he pulled her to face him. They stared into each other’s eyes for long moments, then he leaned forward to kiss her, gently exploring her lips and mouth with the tip of his tongue until Sue responded in kind – her first real kiss.


© Sheri McGuinn

 
 
 


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