In seventh grade, I devised what I call my “plate of favorites” instead of a favorite food. It’s a magical dinner plate. A plate that expands to fit all my favorite foods. I can’t choose just one. But the other night, I might have eaten the best thing yet.
Read MoreOur landlord pounded on the front door. So I got up from the dinner table, opened the door, and stood agape as he puffed himself up and screamed at my partner and me. His face reddened and spit-soaked fuck-bombs came flying out of his mouth.
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