The Secret of Mary Bowser

'I spy with my little eye, where the bird goes when he doesn't fly,' Mama said one mid-day, her words floating on the Richmond heat as we carried empty cookpots through the yard to the kitchen.

Mama, your little girl is all grown up, and still playing our best game.

I am a sp [...]
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'I spy with my little eye, where the bird goes when he doesn't fly,' Mama said one mid-day, her words floating on the Richmond heat as we carried empty cookpots through the yard to the kitchen.

Mama, your little girl is all grown up, and still playing our best game.

I am a spy.