Dear Sasha,
I'm officially mad.
I wish I could tell you how mad I've been for all these years.
I wish we could play Twister and do algebra homework before dinner and then watch a movie or play Monopoly or Clue with your parents.
I wish we could wear swim suits and leotards and stand in the front yard pretending to be sexy statues.
I wish you could show me your training bra and laugh at my jealousy.
I wish your sister could wedge her way between and make us scream at her.
Remember your pimento cheese spread? I hated that shit.
I am so mad at you.
S.
p.s. Mad!
18 December 2007
16. Dear Sasha
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