Her neighbor says, “Don’t wait for him to kill you. Leave now.” A year passes. A baby girl arrives. “I accidentally bumped into a door (wall, chair),” she tells friends. Another year passes. He slams the child’s foot in a door. “An accident,” he says. She “accidentally” packs, takes her daughter. Now she leaves.
At 5 feet give or take, Ann S. Epstein is a fan of short, but she also likes long stories, stemmed roses, and summer days.
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