A Small Memory

     I was 21 when I knew Lynette. She was about the same age and had recently been runner-up for Miss mumble in my state. We worked in the same place. I had recently heard an interview on NPR where it was said that no woman liked her own thighs. I was working alone in the back room when she came in.

I said, ‘I heard a rumor. It was said that you hate your thighs.’

     Lynette looked around, saw we were alone, assumed an unfamiliar frown, and hissed as loud as he could in a whisper, ‘Who told you!’

     I think about that sometimes when I talk to my love.


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