Before I tell you what happened,
Let me give you some context.
Many years ago I won a lifetime
supply of marshmallows. I know.
Sounds great until you consider
the amount of care that goes
into keeping endless marshmallows
fresh: Letting them out for air
and sun, “turning” them regularly
in their boxes. Verged on a full
time job until I met Bernie, a
woman in my neighborhood who had
a “soft spot” for marshmallows.
Well one day, and I’d say quite
recently, but that isn’t true—
it was a long time ago now, several
decades at least—one day Bernie
set them all out for a moment
of sun when just out of nowhere
one of those devil beating his wife
popup sunshowers came and went
and so did my fortune in marsh-
mallows, and so eventually did
Bernie, into a sticky, whitish mass.
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