Ethel Rackin

My Twenties
  • I took the roundabout way to get there. Through the swim shop, the old-fashioned ice cream parlor, other women’s kitchens where I brought my own dish. The coast I knew was no longer a coast but a waterway, and this soured the whole affair. I’m not saying I no longer loved you, just that things had become too much: the salty air, the almost constant drenching, your anxious attempts to get me back. We were two sides of the same person. You, me, everyone we knew.
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