i can almost taste the ocean

Special surprise delivery last week: salt water taffy from Mom and Dad’s trip to the Jersey shore (“They wouldn’t allow us to send chocolate,” Mom says). Every afternoon I’ve been gnawing on a small sample from my decorative tin, and each time, I’m nearly transported to a seaside resort, where my only cares are remembering where I put the sunscreen and the New Yorker summer fiction issue. It’ll be a good memory to draw upon while the dentist is injecting novocaine to fix my rotted teeth.

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