It’s ten degrees in the market parking lot, but the sun warms my spirit and scatters diamond-sparks on the snow. My four-year-old daughter rides in the cart, bundled in pink and her breath comes in clouds of sweet vapor. I unlock the van and smile at the older couple at the car beside us as they unload their groceries.
My daughter regards me, all squinty-faced. “Mommy?”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Are eyelids purple?”
I sigh. “Yes, dear.”
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