The last removal day.

I’m at the Plaza. The place he proclaimed visitation with like an accomplishment: “i went to the Plaza”. The same intonation he has when he looks at me and says “my daughter”. Gloria Jeans and raisin toast make me feel like they are with me. Dad and Bill. Matching bonnets. Slightly different accents. Arguing about details of the day Dad failed as lookout. This is the last removal day.

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