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Managu A Short Story

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Right off the bat, Marci had a rough go of it learning about Managua, particularly that most of the city lacked addresses. Managua was an entire city, known by locations and directions on how to get to a particular point by referencing another well known point. Sort of the way Americans once said, “It’s down just past the big red barn, the road just past the white mailbox will take you up there.” That’s how everything was found in Managua. Glaring out the window, still in a state of confusion about her husband’s demeanor, the taxi passed a group of filthy young boys, seated on a soiled mattresses leaned up against a house. Their odd behavior caught her eye. Each boy held a small baby food jar, up to his face and their eyes looked glossy

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