“I love you.”
It’s whispered gently in her head and reverberates somewhere above her left eye, where her grandmother is buzzing around today.
Arvilla stirs clockwise six times, taps her wooden spoon thrice against the copper cauldron, and speaks the magic words. Then, with her grandmother’s love humming in her mind like a kiss, she decants the
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Oh my sweet tender heart, this is cozy. I love the dynamic of Grandmother resting inside her grand daughter's head. I am mighty curious to hear Grandmother'a stories, now, too. What a life lived!
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