by on July 10, 2019
Reading Rainbow played on the TV on the stand in front of us and all the after-care kids sat at the surrounding library tables, chattering and laughing and barely paying attention to the TV. A girl named Amber, who washed her hands so much her skin was always dry even in the Florida humidity, began to talk about her religion. We were eight. I’d been to church two times in my life and both times I’d been taken away for a dumbed down version of “kid church” where we played games that had ...
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