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134 Hot Tea, a Warm Muffin Shideh Etaat You have forgotten the simplest of things— like our names, what year it is, or that you were once married to a man you did not love, but spent your life with anyway. Some days you are a curious child, others, an old woman ready to die. And some days you are my grandmother, who sits at the café and asks if I’m cold, if I’ve fallen in love yet. This is all that is left for you— hot tea, a warm muffin, and our familiar hands ready to feed you the only sweetness left. And somehow, even though you can’t tell me how long we have been here for, you can sit in this chair and say, I am sitting in the greatest place of all. ...

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