
Souvankham Thammavongsa Reads “Trash”
The New Yorker: The Writer's Voice - New Fiction from The New Yorker
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The Supermarket
My parents didn't have life insurance. The car insurance had expired, and no one had bothered to renew it. There were no savings or anything like that. So i had to quit school and get a job to pay rent. I needed a job right away, and the supermarket gave me one. It was across the street from a park. An actress, i was told, had lived there. She gave up the place when she got a big brake out in los angeles. Maybe i would catch a big brak myself. That's something to believe in and hope for too.
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