on Thursday. ” Marcos disagreed. He sent me a photograph from the fitting room. Franco stood in a charcoal suit, shoulders stiff, looking simultaneously proud and deeply suspicious of formalwear. His rough hands extended from white cuffs as if they belonged to another outfit. Dad asked three times if the tie is straight, Marcos wrote. I saved the picture. That night, I wrote my vows in the workshop.
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The oak shelving Franco built stood beside me
The oak shelving Franco built stood beside me. I crossed out half
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