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	<title>Tracy Cross, Author at midnight &amp; indigo</title>
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		<title>&#8220;Tika Zika&#8221;</title>
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		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Tracy Cross]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Mon, 05 Oct 2020 12:03:00 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Black Speculative Fiction by Black Women Writers]]></category>
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					<description><![CDATA[<p>It was called “Tika Zika”. They gave us instructions to lock ourselves away from each other. No neighbors, friends, nothing&#8211;no matter what. My niece played with my daughter a few steps away when the alert flashed on my tablet. We were told to shelter in place. “Dad, what’s up?” I grabbed my Delphius tablet and flopped on the sofa. He looked gaunt. “Meh, quarantine life, you know?” He joked and fluttered his eyelashes, “Better?” “Jeez, Dad.” “Anyway, I wanted to make sure you and the girls were safe. It’s our daily check-in.” “I needed to lock the girls in the</p>
<p>The post <a href="https://www.midnightandindigo.com/tika-zika/">&#8220;Tika Zika&#8221;</a> appeared first on <a href="https://www.midnightandindigo.com">midnight &amp; indigo</a>.</p>
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		<title>&#8220;Don&#8217;t Go There&#8221;</title>
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		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Tracy Cross]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Sun, 09 Feb 2020 05:00:21 +0000</pubDate>
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					<description><![CDATA[<p>At bedtime, the little girl I babysat grabbed my shirt and whispered, “Don’t go there.” “Go where?” I picked her up and walked through the minimalist-styled kitchen with its dark cabinets and farmhouse sink, to the open living room and up the stairs. She nestled her head into my shoulder. “The basement. Don’t go down there.” “Why not?” I walked down the hallway to her room. I pushed the door open to an explosion of pink. She had a twin bed covered with pink stuffed animals. Toys cluttered the floor and her drawings hung on the pink striped walls. “Daddy</p>
<p>The post <a href="https://www.midnightandindigo.com/dont-go-there/">&#8220;Don&#8217;t Go There&#8221;</a> appeared first on <a href="https://www.midnightandindigo.com">midnight &amp; indigo</a>.</p>
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