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180 the widows’ handbook Peninsula Donna Hilbert Finger connected to the hand by an isthmus of land. I live on one, travel to another to recover. Yuke-a-tawn, Jack says, correcting my pronunciation. At home, the bay on one side, ocean on the other. Here, it’s ocean and sea. Peninsula. Might as well be an island where I’ve washed up salty, alone. ...

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