White Mary Janes - A Rupture In History, Assignment 1
"Where are you taking Marmar?" Grandpère laughs up at me. His hands at my waist hold me above his head. My white Mary Janes scissor kick the air. "Shopping," I crow. "What will you buy me?" "I don't know-oh-oh," I warble a song of syllables. Heavy boots clomp along the hallway floor. Grandpère