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Mobilis in Mobili

Brooklyn, circa 1950

"Put that book down!" Mom is yelling from the kitchen, but the only sound I hear is a muffled shriek. "Steve! Stevie! Come on! It's Sunday! Your grandfather will be here in a minute! You have been nagging me all week . . . and now I can’t get you away from this book! Can you hear me?"

She plants herself in front of me, her summer dress with fading forget-me-nots and her stained linen apron still smelling of the chicken cutlets she was frying.

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