Dad. Tanned, gold chain, lean, shirtless. Hair of gleaming chestnut, almost reddish. The Sierra Cabrera hills looming in the background. Here he is, arms outstretched behind him, leaning on an off-white wall that must’ve felt lovely and warm under his hands. He’s smiling, angled, facing us. He’s beautiful. He could be George Michael here, it would’ve be…
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