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Training myself to take up space

Photo by Mohamed Nohassi on Unsplash

Long ago, as a teenage waitress scurrying through crowded kitchens and dining rooms, it was my habit to say “sorry” when I needed to pass.

Sorry to my fellow servers, each of us balancing trays of food and cocktails on flower stalk forearms.

Sorry to the earnest, bow-tied busboys with their baskets of bread and carafes of water.

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