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August 10, 2007
Her name was Zazi.

Boots, though bulky around her ankles, seemed strangely fitting under the faded pattern of her long cotton skirt. Her hair was a messy knot, golden and thick. Clear-faced and nearly ageless, her few lines were from the sunís brightness.

The baby slumbered on the porch bench. A pair of sandals were abandoned in the yard. The sandalsí owner, age 3, gender indeterminate, sat on a chair in the shade watching the garden quietly.

From up in the holler, she had come down to help the elderly neighbors put up their vegetables. Like someone from another time.