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Matter of Pride
I knew he was my Papa from the first time I laid eyes on him. From the time they decanted me, I would follow him around, staring at his shoes, and do whatever he did. And then, when I understood what he was saying, I’d do whatever he told me. He was my Papa, and he was smart. He wasn’t like me, though. He had a thick belly and a naked head, and his eyes had creases when he bared his teeth at me, teeth that were yellow and square and small…