At the border of the town where I grew up there is a circle that straddles Maryland and the District of Columbia and is ringed by a band of churches. Catholic, Protestant, Presbyterian, Baptist, Methodist. All are represented here, I remember being told many times.
Many of the girls in my town wore the Catholic school uniform: short plaid skirts, saddle shoes (scuffed) and stiff white shirts with peter pan collars. Their uniformity was thrilling, as fascinating as living in an apartment might be. Or having braces and a broken leg. Or talking quietly in public.
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