Fiction | March 01, 1994

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We were just getting nouveau, “nuevo,” Marguerita called it when the boxes arrived. Silver and crystal, mink jackets to summer in storage, chandeliers, and there were french doors to be hung. “Das ist zu reich,” squealed Irma when the Oriental was unrolled. Here are the Wedgwood bowls, a security system, a marble-floored foyer where children sprawl playing jacks. Here is Graciela carrying a laundry basket saying something that sounds like a Spanish curse or a Spanish prayer.

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