“Chasing the Echoes of Home: A Journey Through Memory and Migration”
Ginnie didn’t know about my nerdy hobby, and I wasn’t about to tell her. No one on the shows we liked—Fame and Solid Gold and Magnum P.I. — would do such an old-fashioned thing.
We were eating the last of the pita, smeared with rancid American-style peanut butter from Ginnie’s father’s stash, when a loud knock sounded on the door. “Tanya? Tanya? Es-tu là?”
It was Maman’s voice. I ran to open the door and tumbled into her arms.
She shook me free. “On sort d’ici au plus vite.” We need to get out of here.
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