
PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
As soon as we walked into the store, I knew I was home. I knew I could do whatever I wanted, make whatever I wanted, with the fabric surrounding me. The only thing in my way was how to pay for everything. Because of his broken relationship with my grandmother, my father would never pay for something that would remind him of her. I had no idea what had happened, and no one would clue me into the past. But what neither one of us knew at the time, she had orchestrated the entire trip. And she wasn’t done yet.
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