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Whose smile is that?
I Lived in Poverty with Amnesia for 13 Years – Until One Day, a White SUV Pulled up to My Tent Under the Bridge
Because I was her mother. I had rocked her through fevers and cut crusts off sandwiches for ten years.
I had worked double shifts and skipped new shoes and smiled through panic over rent so she could do dance class for exactly one semester before deciding she hated dance and loved robotics.
