Fiction, Essay Abigail George Fiction, Essay Abigail George

David

You’re the music inside my head—my love song. And when the music plays, I pull the hair back from my face and, holding it up with bobby pins, I dance for you.

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Essay Sugar Pendragon Essay Sugar Pendragon

Cornrows

Because to have made it is to be able to afford a wig or a weave. It is not to look after your hair properly or to still have your cornrows.

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Essay Sugar Pendragon Essay Sugar Pendragon

First winter

That Christmas, as we began our British lives, my parents bought a Christmas tree. It made up, somehow, for the snow which did not come.

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