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when i was little, my grandma and i used to take the car service to coney island to ride the carousel. i loved my time with my grandma so much that i kept to myself the constant anxiety in my tummy as we rode in a stranger's car, encountered sketchy men on the boardwalk, and rode the horses in a circle over and over again in the hot and sticky air. i never told her i was scared or that my tummy hurt, because i didn't want her to stop spending time with me. as far as i was concerned back then, my grandma was all that i had.

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