A few years ago I was working at a literary salon in Oakland, California. That night I was in the kitchen, tackling the daunting and skin-wrecking task of washing the many dishes from that evening’s rush. As I pulled on a pair of pink, cloth-lined gloves and dipped my rubbery hands into the scalding water, the owner came around the corner and told me the open mic host couldn’t make it that night. “Any chance you can take over?” she asked with a nervous chuckle…
Michelle Kicherer 