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The Shape of Sorrow – Ulrica Hume

The queue is out the door. Dorothy waits in a focused, vengeful way for her double order of battered cod, mushy peas, and chips.

Back home, she unfolds the treasure. Enjoys bitter ale, a chocolate bar with nuts.

So what if I’m fat?

So what?

Once, she caught Frank with her best friend. This was a picnic on a heath somewhere – 1962.

Vivee is gone now, Frank also.

Dorothy and Frank met during wartime. She was thin and shy then, almost invisible. Frank kissed her bony, waiflike hand.

At first sight, I knew, he always said.