Yesterday, I made a business call to a faraway woman named Ursula. After the call ended, I continued to think about the yielding lilt in every word she spoke. Her “thank you” sounded the same way cotton balls feel when you take them up and roll them between your fingers. I quickly realized—as her voice looped and kitten-stepped around my thoughts—that I wanted to marry Ursula's voice and sleep every night with her Russian accent.
--Mitchell Hegman
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