the cilantro out of everything, but without hiding it anymore.
Claire came every Wednesday. Sometimes she talked a lot. Sometimes she just washed dishes. One day, as we were drying glasses, she said to me: ââI thought my dadâs death had left us without a home.â I looked at her. ââAnd it turns out it left us one full of people,â she finished. I didnât continue reading âŚ