Little Pieces Locked away in tiny boxes: Barbecues in February

I never thought I would grow to hate them. I had once been one of them so how could I grow to hate them? Perhaps it is because I was never one of them. I merely donned their skin for a time. One easily shed when I no longer needed it. I never expected to feel so lonely without it. I thought that the moment I removed it, it would reveal another fully formed.

I could never quite put on the old skin once I'd cast it off. The thought of barbecues in February, barbecues under the weak wintry sun never again seemed like the thing to do.

Happy Days,

Mama Afam seems to think that I wrote this from the perspective of a potato. She says that she would have hated to be barbecued in February too.

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