A. Milne’s, ‘Winnie-the-pooh’. Tasha stroked her daughter’s hair, and then, even in the stifling heat, walked over, closed, and locked the win...ow. She left the room, leaving on Pooh’s glow-in-the-dark face night light plugged into the floor outlet by the door. She went into the bathroom, closed the door, and pulled off her sundress. She looked at herself critically in the mirror behind the door. Her breasts were small, jutting things that could barely fill a small sport bra, but her stomach was. Love you guys,” I grinned at the reminder that Mom still planned to make me an exception to her lesbianism, along with Dad and Uncle Steve, but frowned at the other reminder ... that Dad didn’t have much of a future left ... stolen by Lewy body dementia.“Love you, too, son,” Dad said first, followed by Mom.When we got to the theater, we were immediately welcomed by Anne-Marie, who broke out into a huge smile when I asked for a job application.“Oh, fuck, yes! I so hoped that we could work. More

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