That morning in May was really the only time I can remember Mia taking BeDe out of the basement on Charles Street—that was in the good times, before the forever sleeps and the pill bottles. It was that morning, right after I’d gotten the job as a line cook, that BeDe named where I work—the Green Tile Diner. She’s two and a half and had just gotten old enough to know what things are. I tell you, that girl has got a memory like a donkey; she remembers everything.
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