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The Informant

The one in the red chair wants to know.

Wants to know if I have eyes in my back.

And I whisper his words slowly with a crinkled forehead, “in my back?”

“You know,” he says, “behind you.”

At which time his sister rescues him and says, “he means, do you have eyes in the back of your head?”


I only start to speak, when my son blurts what he’s bursting to report, “well, Grandma does!”


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