In lieu of an abstract, below is the essay's first paragraph.
"We sat on the stoop of our musty green house. Its white shutters peeled in the Florida humidity . The wooden boards beneath us flattened our behinds and stuck to our flesh when we stood up. I pulled my knees to my chest and wrapped my skinny arms around my bruised legs. We thought of our house as a wicked castle and the two of us as maidens in distress. Together we dreamed that a pair of handsome princes on fine white horses would sweep us away through the orange blossoms to some magical land. The princes never came."
"We sat on the stoop of our musty green house...,"
The Angle: Vol. 1985
, Article 14.
Available at: http://fisherpub.sjfc.edu/angle/vol1985/iss1/14