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Rise of the Sourdough
Nadia named her sourdough starter Gerald, the way you name anything you have to feed twice a day and slightly resent. This morning, taped to his jar in flour-dusted handwriting she did not recognize, was a note: WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT THE THERMOSTAT. Gerald had no hands. Gerald had no pen. And yet there it was, the tape still slightly warm.
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