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Caught Up


Caught Up
C. Swonk
CAUGHT UP
1 ~ Amy
Shaking my head, I rhetorically ask you, “What would you do?”
I hate her – I actually hate her. Hear me, I hate her! And you would too. The
audacity of that woman butting in my life, into our lives. How dare she. Who does she
think she is and can’t she realize that I am not her and never want to be? I bet you
wouldn’t want to be her either. Ugh, I hate her. She doesn’t get it. Leave me alone, leave
us alone!
I push my straight black hair out of my face and tuck it behind my ear, wondering
if I should cut it short again. Denny likes it short, neat and trim, but I prefer it more
carefree, wild, and blowing in the wind when we drive around in our convertible, top
down. We have a compromise now; it is right below ear- length, cut in layers. Do you
think it looks OK at this length?
Standing at our condo’s kitchen sink after dinner, I pick up the lasagna pan and
put it in the hot sudsy water in the stainless steel sink. I try to focus on the tan granite
with black specks on the counter but canno t. I love this condo. We bought the two-story
last year while the prices were down in Granada Hills, a suburb of the Los Angeles area,
known to most of us natives as “The Valley.” I am so happy here. Yes, we have traffic,
crime and gangs, and every ethnic restaurant possible within walking distance from each
other, but this is where I was raised and grew up. This is my town, my city. And I am a
true Valley girl and proud of it.
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