At the Sunoco in West Virginia

My father is dreamy, forgetful, aloof. But I’ve never actually been left
behind before. I walk behind an aisle of Frito-Lays and burst into tears.

I should’ve eaten the eggs he bought me at the Super 8. I should’ve saved
my allowance like he’d said. I should’ve made myself bigger, louder,

less forgettable. A female customer has her eyes locked on me as she speaks
into her boxy cell phone: Yes, maybe two minutes ago. Looks about ten,
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