short narrative nonfiction: “I Shouldn’t Exist?”

Inspiring Critical Thinking and Community via Books, Lessons, and Story

… Memories of visiting mid 1970’s NYC from NJ…

We were in one of those tunnels, smelling the stink of the city. Was this the Lincoln, or the Holland? I could hear Suzanna calling the gas station owner a putz, again, over the cough of her little VW’s engine. I thought I’d seen a flash of blue light for a second, but then the engine stuttered again. I hoped we wouldn’t break down. She’d said that he watered down his gas to make more money. How did they put water in the gasoline, anyway? Wasn’t it all closed up somewhere? I turned to Suzanna. She knew so many interesting things, and never told me to stop asking questions.

She wouldn’t look at me.

My stomach started to get upset, the way it did with other people, when they got mad. But I’d never seen Suzanna mad at me, even when…

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