The man is holding a box of frozen pizzas. His hand is freezer
burned. Ice has surrounded the hand. The hand is stuck to the
bottom of the box. The pizzas are the small kind—French
My mom has a great smile but she does not smile very often. Men must
know about the smile somehow, though. They see the possibility of it in
One of the neighbors bought food from the man with the pizzas and he
now frequents the neighborhood going door to door with his cold hands
and laminated menu. His truck says "Swann." He is
the "Swann Man."
It is easy to buy pizza for kids, especially the little French breads.
The man doesn't care to see my mom's smile. He is content knowing other
men know the possibility. He wants to come into the house. She
hesitates, considers her words.
The man misreads the hesitation. He steps closer, puts his hand on the
door. She says something strong, like, "Leave!"
Or, no, she doesn't say that. She thanks him and says she doesn't need
pizzas this week, no, not next week either. She turns the
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