Personal Narrative: Is Dat Daddy

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“Allez, mon cher,” the woman calls to the boy.
“Mommy, wook,” he calls back to her, “Is dat daddy?”
“No, mon cher,” the woman looks at a flat panel television screen that hangs outside a bar-restaurant near Dana Point, “That isn’t daddy.”
A video image of the man in an orange jump suit as he sits at a table in court lingers on the screen. A scrolling caption under the screen details that the man is charged with the first degree murder of a woman in Brooklyn with whom he had engaged in an illicit affair.
The woman loads the boy into the back car seat of her Mercedes G-500.
“Mama,” the boy exclaims, “Mama, wook. I want a puppy wike James,” he holds up a red toy train with a human-like face, “Mama, pwease.”
The woman turns to a radio station
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